A Flight into the Dark
by Sandylee007
Summary: The entire team catches glimpses of something being wrong with Clint Barton. Little do they know how horribly painful the truth is…           CLINT/HAWKEYE WHUMP CHARACTER DEATH
1. Prologue

A/N: An idea like this has been tormenting me for AGES. And now, finally, here it is, because it refused to NOT come out. (grins) First, though…

DISCLAIMER: MUAH-HAH-HAA! If only I had enough money to hire Renner for my movie… (sighs dreamily) But nope, sadly I own nothing. Nor do I own the story's title picture! It was created by a genius.

WARNING: ADULT MATERIAL, a tiny bit of ClintxLaura, a bit of language (sorry Steve…!)

Awkay, because it's WAY too late already… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy this weird, mad ride.

 **TRIGGER WARNING** ( **BEWARE OF SPOILERS** ): NON-SUBTLE HINTS OF NON-CON

* * *

 ** _A Flight into the Dark_**

* * *

Surprisingly it was Thor who caught the first warning sign. It was New Year's Eve, and the whole team was preparing for a party Tony had insisted on throwing. Now, the Asgardian was still a bit of a stranger to human manners, and manners in general. Sometimes, just like now, he forgot that he was supposed to wait for a permission to enter before doing so. Which led to him facing a shirtless Clint Barton. Instinctively he recoiled a couple of steps, embarrassed. Then he saw the bruising marring his friend's side.

Scars he'd known to expect but the fresh bruising was a surprise.

Clint pulled on a shirt as quickly as possible. Irritation rose to mask startle. "Ever heard of knocking?"

Thor frowned. Yes, he was sorry to intrude. But at the moment worry overruled embarrassment. "I wasn't aware that you were injured on the mission."

There was a second's pause. Then Clint shrugged. "It's just a bit of bruising. No big deal." The archer shifted with clearly apparent discomfort. "Look, as much as I appreciate the concern… I'll change my pants next, so…"

Thor got the message and fled. He, however, couldn't quite shake off the irritating nag of worry sitting in the back of his mind. Yet at the party Clint acted flawlessly like nothing was wrong at all. And the Asgardian found himself wondering if he was just making a big deal out of nothing.

Sadly, it wouldn't have been the first time Clint ended up injured on a mission and he'd seen far worse damage.

* * *

Valentine's Day was at hand faster than anyone saw it coming. For the Avengers romance wasn't exactly the day's theme, however, as they were making their way back home from a yet another infuriating mission. They were all tired and achy. And cranky.

When Tony spotted Clint examining the archer's phone with a strange look on his face he saw an easy target. Even though a tiny voice inside him was screaming that something was _wrong_. "Lady problems, Pigeon?"

Clint shivered, and for a microsecond something disconcerting showed. Or then it was just a trick of imagination. "I'm not the one who just had a shouting match, Tin Can."

Tony wrinkled his nose. "Defensive, much? That's never cute." He winked. "If you need a little help, though… Tell Dr. Stark. I'm an expert."

Clint snorted. "Yeah, thanks. But I'm not that desperate."

"Stop messing with him, Stark", Natasha, who'd been talking to Bruce, advised. She sat down with her usual grace despite sporting a bruised knee and a wound on her forehead. "You have no idea how many ways that guy knows to kill you in your sleep."

Tony rolled his eyes but found it best to not comment further with two armed former assassins present.

On their way out of the jet Clint whispered to Tony's ear. "Twenty-three." The archer then seemed to think better of it. "Or make it twenty-four. I forgot that trick from Delhi…"

Tony grinned, even though he probably should've been scared, and made the mistake of assuming that everything was alright.

* * *

It was almost a week later Natasha got a phone call in the middle of a training session. Her eyebrows furrowed as she recognized Laura's number. "What's wrong?" was her immediate response. Clint was supposed to be at the Farm, safe and sound. So why this call?

Laura sighed. It took a while before the woman spoke. " _I can't believe I'm doing this, but… Do you have any idea what's wrong with Clint?_ "

Natasha gritted her teeth. "I don't know", she admitted reluctantly, and hated it. "But I was hoping that going home would fix it."

" _He has nightmares. Almost as much as… well, in the beginning. And he can barely stand me touching him._ " There was very open pain in Laura's voice. " _And remember that jogging habit of his? He's doing it again, a lot. He's been missing for an hour, now._ " The woman's fear and frustration were palpable. " _I'm probably being stupid, but… It feels like he's slipping away from me._ "

Natasha breathed in. And out. "We'll find out what's wrong." Because this was more than just the long shadow of Loki. Something even darker.

" _I really hope so._ " Was that a sob? " _Because… I want my husband back, from wherever he is now._ "

* * *

Unfortunately Clint headed straight to a mission of his own from the Farm. Two weeks scrolled by before Natasha got a call asking her to pick up her friend from a hospital. It wasn't exactly the first such call he received but it did mark the first time she wasn't given any information, out of the patient's request. She headed to the hospital with heavy dread in the pit of her stomach. She didn't even feign surprise when they told her that they would've wanted Clint to stay for at least a couple of days. Once more she attempted to pry details, and once again such weren't granted. The second she entered Clint's room she felt like strangling someone.

Clint… was horribly bruised. One of his eyes was practically swollen closed and since he'd clearly refused pain relief he was shaking from discomfort. The worst, however, were his eyes. They were just as haunted as after Loki. "What happened?" she demanded, noticing too late how sharp her tone was. Too sharp.

It was like watching Clint obtain a suit of armor of his own. The closed off look on his face was one of the most infuriating and heartbreaking things she'd ever witnessed. "Just… Get me out of here, please?" Clint _did not_ plead.

And Natasha knew that whatever answers she wanted were still far out of her reach.

* * *

Due to his unfortunate circumstances, Bruce was fairly good at reading emotions. (It was a necessity in order to keep his own from boiling over.) He could tell that there was something wrong with Clint when he saw how quiet and tense the archer became. Whenever the man imagined that no one noticed a strange look Bruce couldn't quite name appeared to his friend's face.

Bruce wanted to help. Or to at least inquire if something was wrong. But he'd never really had friends before so he didn't have any idea how to start. Especially with someone as private and closed up as Clint.

Eventually he got an opening. The team had returned from a mission only hours earlier and everyone was exhausted. And tense. While Natasha and Steve busied themselves with sparring, Tony headed off to find Pepper and Thor went back to Asgard Bruce shuffled towards the kitchen area. He wasn't the first one there.

Clint's back was the him while the archer spoke to a phone, clearly with no idea that he had audience. The man had been running a hand through his hair so many times that the fair locks were sticking to all imaginable directions. "… know that I promised but this is… Hey, listen…! I won't, okay, just…" The final pause was a long one, ending to a heavy sigh. The rest was spoken so softly that Bruce couldn't catch the words. And then, before he could even think about a tactical retreat, Clint turned and their eyes met. The look that appeared to the Hawk's face was, perhaps, the most alarming bit of all.

It was quite possibly the only opening Bruce would get so he went for it. Even if he had no idea how to proceed. "Everything alright?" Well, that was harmless enough, right?

For a few fleeting seconds it looked like Clint might actually let his guard down, just a little. Until the man shook himself out of those ideas and created a nearly flawless little grin. "Yeah. Just… miscommunication. Coffee?"

Bruce's eyebrow arched. "Now? It's one in the morning."

Clint shrugged, already heading for the coffee maker. "I can't sleep without caffeine." It was declared like the most natural thing in the world. And somehow the light tone succeeded in distracting Bruce from worries, at least for a moment.

"You _are_ an odd bird."

"And you've been spending too much time with Stark."

* * *

Two months slipped by and the cold of winter turned to a spring.

Steve didn't know how long he'd been running until he finally decided that he'd had enough of the 90s music Tony had filled his iPod with. (For educational purposes, the billionaire claimed. Steve had a feeling that a prank was pulled on him. Because… What was this music?) He walked the last three blocks to give his body a chance to overcome the adrenaline rush. Almost as soon as he slowed down he froze at what caught his eye.

A limousine was parked to a small street. And Clint was leaning against it, clearly having a fight with someone sitting inside. They were just quiet enough to keep Steve from hearing what, exactly, was said but the look on his friend's face was enough to reveal that it was far from pleasant. Then, like a switch had been flicked, Clint became utterly still and quiet, his face paling dramatically. And the archer began to enter the vehicle.

Just seconds before Clint disappeared from sight their eyes met. Steve made a move to interrupt what was clearly an unpleasant situation until the Hawk shook his head, subtly but clearly. Those eyes were scared (which marked the first time he saw his friend afraid) but the message was clearer than clear.

 _DO NOT INTERFERE._

Steve was left there, staring at the fast disappearing vehicle and wondering what, exactly, he just witnessed. He didn't manage to relax fully even when Clint returned to the Tower hours later. The archer seemed alright, aside a barely noticeable limp. But something was obviously off.

Clint sighed heavily at the look in his eyes. "So. I guess you want to talk?"

"It depends." Steve gritted his teeth, focusing hard to maintain at least a small part of his self-control. "Are you going to answer to me honestly?"

Clint's jawline tightened. The Hawk braced himself for an attack, apparently. "You know I can't."

"Classified information?" Steve groaned in frustration at the answering nod. "We're a team! You…"

"I what?" Clint was practically hissing. "Steve, I've been an agent for much longer than you were a soldier! You're just gonna have to trust that this is something I'll handle on my own." _Trust me!_

Steve nodded because he had no other choice. The frustration was almost impossible to keep in check. "But you need to trust us, too. We're your team. We're right here, whenever you need us."

It was supposed to be comforting. Clint looked like he'd been punched. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

The two were too preoccupied to notice that they had audience. Natasha listened to their exchange with a frown on her face, focusing on the look on the archer's face. Once she'd made it to her room she took her phone and dialed Fury's number. "Something's wrong with Clint. Do you have any idea what it might be?" If this was some sort of a stupidly dangerous mission…!

Fury sighed heavily. " _Yeah, I do._ " There was a torturous pause. " _Laura filed for a divorce a few days ago._ "

* * *

What the others didn't know was that for all that time a part of Clint was hoping – praying – that at least one of them _asked_. Wouldn't let him get away with flimsy excuses. Even though his whole reason was trying to tell him that it'd only make things worse.

But this battle was his own.

So, just like far too many times before, he put on a pair of black training pants and a T-shirt of the same color. No shoes, that was the deal. He wrapped protective bandages around his hands, then took a deep breath and headed for the arena.

These fighters weren't average people. These were wild animals, desiring to tear him apart with their bare hands. So Clint responded in kind. What else was he supposed to do? He kicked, spun, punched. Fought back like the devil itself had caught a hold of him. Which actually wasn't very far from the truth.

It was one of the quiet nights. He only had to take down five men. From the corner of his eye he saw pleased faces in the audience and felt sick to his stomach. Tonight they'd been betting for him. He might not be so lucky the next time.

He already felt a shadow following him and the nausea from before intensified violently.

By the time Clint entered the tiny apartment he'd rented from the city he already had company. The scent of curry chicken carried from the kitchen. These days it made his stomach turn.

He didn't expect to get blindfolded from behind. He tensed up, instincts telling him to strike back and neutralize the threat. But then he remembered how much was at stake. And a fighter who just took down five men was able to do nothing as a pair of unwanted hands grabbed his hips possessively.

"I hope that you're hungry, dear." As a nearly purring voice spoke all he could focus on were the words that'd been hissed at him far less pleasantly.

/ _"Play nice with me… and at least one of them may survive. And if you make the mistake of upsetting me again… I can promise you, you'll have them back in your arms in tiny bits and pieces."_ /

Clint nodded stiffly although he wasn't sure he could swallow a bite without it coming right back up.

"Good, good." The hands tightened on him. "You fought so well for me today. You made me proud." One of the hands slipped under his shirt and it took all his willpower to not stiffen as a response. It caressed the scarring those same fingers helped cause. "And now you'll let me look after you, like the good pet you are. No more hurting. No more silly nonsense." He was pulled closer to the other's unwanted warmth. "You're my pet and I'll take care of you. Just like I did after I first found you, remember? I'll never let you go again."

/ _"You ran away from me once, little pet. You, my favorite. I'm not making the mistake of letting you go again. No matter how many people I'll have to kill. Do you understand?"_ /

* * *

 ** _X_**

* * *

A/N: Oh gosh, poor Clint…! (sighs) It seems that his life's in shambles.

SO… The call's yours, actually. I put that 'X' to the end because I'm not sure if this is completed or not. WHAT DO YOU THINK? Should this continued, or just left this way? PLEASE, do let me know – when I'm this undecided your opinion would mean the world to me! IF THIS CONTINUES the rating will DEFINITELY rise to M. (This was still a borderline T-case.)

In any case, thank you so much for reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll see ya again later?

Take care!


	2. Looming Threats

A/N: Phew! It's WAY too late but I just can't resist posting this before going to bed. First, though…

OH MY GOSH! You guys, THANK YOU, a million and one times, for your absolutely amazing reviews, listings and support! It makes me feel insanely good that so many of you are eager to join the ride. (HUGS) I really hope that this'll meet your expectations!

Awkay, before I get all mushy… Let's go! 'Hope you'll have a great ride.

* * *

Looming Threats

* * *

Natasha had always had good instincts. She was particularly good at sensing looming threats. It was what kept her alive through Red Room and especially the nightmare that could barely be called a life which followed.

And something was wrong with the Barton family.

It took days of trying before she finally got a hold of Laura. The woman greeted her call with an exhausted sigh. " _Look, Nat… I appreciate your concern. But… We're all trying to settle into this whole thing and… Well._ "

"I'm not calling in Clint's behalf. I'm calling as your… friend." It felt strange, even after all the years, to use that word. Natasha gritted her teeth and frowned. Her skin tingled, which was a sure sign that something was wrong. "Are you alright?"

Laura emitted a small, bitter sigh. Or maybe it was a sob. " _No_ ", the woman admitted honestly.

There was a brief silence before Natasha finally spoke again. Asked what was swirling on her tongue, burning it. "Why now?" It was clearer than clear that she meant the divorce.

Laura was quiet for so long that the redhead checked if the call had been disconnected. " _You've seen why. Because the man who came back after New York… He isn't the same person I married._ " There was bottomless grief in the woman's voice. But also something entirely different. Someone could be heard, faintly yet still, calling out. " _I've… gotta go. I'll be staying at my dad's. You know, to do some thinking._ "

All alarm bells went off in Natasha's head. Because that was one of the many emergency-codes they'd agreed on. 'At dad's' meant that Laura and the kids were safe but something was wrong with Clint. Also, there was clearly a good chance that someone was listening in on them.

" _Nat?_ " Laura was definitely fighting back sobs. " _Just… Look after Clint, okay? You know how he is._ "

"I will." And Natasha meant it, from the bottom of her heart. Her eyes narrowed with determination. Familiar steel hard resolve overruling the strange, infuriating panic that wanted to break through. "You look after yourself, and the kids."

" _I will_ ", Laura swore, and definitely meant it. A shuddering sigh followed while the woman pulled herself together. " _I've gotta go. But I'll talk to you soon._ " They both knew that it'd be a while before they'd be able to chat again, at least freely.

After brief and tense goodbyes they braced themselves for a battle, even when neither could even imagine what they were fighting against.

* * *

Much later that evening Nick Fury entered his apartment. He froze as soon as he'd switched on the lights and closed the door. His one eye narrowed at the space surrounding and ahead of him.

He wasn't alone.

While one of his hands slid subtly towards his concealed firearm Nick's gaze scanned the apartment. Very soon he spotted droplets of already dried blood. Cold sped through his veins and he gritted his teeth. A few soundless strides later he reached the living room and came face to face with the intruder.

The intruder could be found from his couch, which was a very good strategic spot because it couldn't be seen through a window and it opened a full view to the apartment's only entrance. Clint Barton lay there in a light sleep, a deep frown on his unhealthily pale, bruised face. 'Bruised' was a very good descriptive word, actually. With the black T-shirt the younger man wore it was easy to see similar marks on his arms. Those were almost as alarming as how the Hawk was trembling. The most worrying of all, however, was the blood staining the back of Clint's shirt.

Before Fury had the time to process what he was seeing Clint shuddered. In a flash those eyes flew open and darted towards him. For a few dangerous moments a quick and ready hand reached out towards a weapon until that gaze finally recognized him. Clint didn't relax, however.

"Well. This is a surprise", Fury admitted honestly when it became apparent that his unexpected guest wouldn't utter a word. "I'm not going to ask how you found out where I live because I don't want to know. But I'm curious to hear what made you desperate enough to come."

Clint pushed himself to a sitting position although it seemed to require whatever little strength the man had. A hint of the tension seemed to melt away, though. "I… needed someone who wouldn't ask too many questions to patch me up."

Fury fought the urge to sigh valiantly. His shoulders slumped, and although he would've never admitted as much worry twisted in the bottom of his stomach. "You do realize that I'm not a medical professional, don't you?"

Clint shrugged. "It's you or someone from a ER asking all sorts of stuff that I don't feel like answering. Besides, it's not like you've never done this before. Remember Rio?" The archer was obviously getting irritated. "I'd handle it myself if I could, you know?"

Fury sighed. Loudly and heavily. "Just show me. And I swear, if you bleed out on my couch…" He left the rest hanging but knew that the younger man heard, loud and clear.

Clint rolled his eyes. But not before a flash of something very troubling could be spotted by a quick, careful glance. Suspiciously slowly, visibly reluctantly, the Hawk began to take off his shirt. Despite all his skill Fury had hard time disguising how he felt when the full extend of the injury became revealed.

There was so much bruising and other damage – old and new – that it seemed to make a back-sized map. And there, just a hair from what looked like a lethal spot, was a stab wound. Clint had done what he could to handle it but the white bandage had long since been drenched in red.

"And how, exactly, did _that_ happen?" was all Fury could think of uttering.

"Someone brought a knife to a fist fight." (1)

"You and your clever movie references…", Fury muttered. He was starting to get a feeling that he wouldn't be savoring the glass of Brandy he'd been dreaming of anytime soon. Biting back some vulgar words he began to head towards the bathroom. "I'll go and get the first aid kit." Although he would've much more gladly called for an ambulance.

Clint was silent as Fury began the work. Which was, admittedly, very worrying. Fury was pleased to discover that although there'd been a lot of bleeding and the wound was very, very deep it wasn't life threatening. If he'd clean it up well and the idiot of a former assassin would actually let it heal the archer should be fine. "You'll live", he announced, and sounded more relieved than he would've cared to admit.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Clint shivered only slightly, didn't even hiss, when the wound was cleaned although it had to _hurt_. Exactly four seconds of silence ticked by. "I'm indestructible."

"You've been spending too much time with Stark." Fury gritted his teeth, glaring at the gaping hole that was sneering at him. "So, here's the deal… While I've got all sorts of stuff at hand I've got nothing to numb the area with."

"And you imagine that sewing that thing together's gonna hurt more than being stabbed?"

Of course it hurt. A lot. But there weren't exactly a lot of choices. Fury worked the best as he could, trying to stay oblivious to the way Clint started trembling in his handling. The younger man kept muttering the entire time and from the sounds of it the words – coming fast and in more languages than the one eyed man could catch – didn't sound like anything pleasant.

At last it was done. Fury cast a very unimpressed half glare at the final result. "Well. It's not going to be pretty."

"Chicks dig scars."

"Laura doesn't." As soon as the words slipped through Fury's lips he knew that he shouldn't have uttered them. He could practically see how the mental walls surrounding Clint slammed closed, and the visible tension was a solid proof. A tiny part of him wanted to comfort the man but it would've been painfully awkward. He'd never been a comforter and Clint didn't appreciate empty promises after facing far too many throughout his life. So instead he gave the man a chance to put his stained shirt back on, to obtain at least that much security and dignity. Then, at last, he went on. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Too quick. Unconvincing, to both of them. Clint remained with his back turned on him. "I just… I needed a breather, you know? A moment out of… _all that_."

Fury processed that for a while. "So… You came here, of all places?"

"Yeah." And that, apparently – along with the earlier comment about not wanting too many questions – was clearly all the answer he'd get. The archer sounded defensive and exhausted. Never a good combination, especially with all that stubbornness. "I made sure that I wasn't followed."

"Of course you did, you're not an amateur. Barton." Their eyes met, Fury's gaze hard and commanding the truth. "Do you need an out?"

Clint looked at him. And for a moment, just one, seemed tempted to give in for once in his life. The archer, however, shook his head firmly, whatever vulnerability there'd been disappearing like a trick of imagination. "No, I don't", the younger man practically spat through tightly gritted teeth. "I need that bastard in a prison. And this is our only chance to make that happen."

"You won't get anyone sent behind bars if you get yourself killed first", Fury snapped back, the young man's stubbornness threatening to break his usually flawless self-control.

Clint lifted his chin defiantly. But those eyes… They didn't quite show the fight he was used to seeing. "I'm not planning on getting killed. I'm going to destroy him."

Fury groaned. "That doesn't comfort me." Seeing that the younger man was beginning to sway, he decided that they could continue with this… exchange later. "Now get some sleep. No offense, but you look ready to drop."

More eye-rolling and muttering followed, which was actually comfortingly familiar. But in the end Clint actually did curl up on the couch, careful with his back, and settled so that he had a view to the door. Fury kept an eye on the man until he stilled before beginning to make his way towards his bed. He stopped at barely audible words. "Hey, Fury? Thanks. And sorry. I owe you a new couch."

How many times had Fury already sighed heavily that evening – night, morning? He was glad that he didn't have any hair because Clint would've surely turned all of them gray by now. "Yeah, you do. And I never wanna see your blood on the new one."

* * *

Fury did his best to stay awake because he knew that his fidgety patient was a runner. But despite having proven many people otherwise quite successfully he was a human being. One with limits. And eventually he dozed off. Only for fifteen minutes but that was enough.

When he woke up Clint was gone.

* * *

The Avengers Tower began to awaken to the new day slowly. They'd agreed to have the first half of the day off from training for once, for which Tony was endlessly grateful. He emerged from the room he shared with Pepper at eleven thirty, grinning like a cat that just caught a juicy canary.

And, well, he found a Hawk.

The sight was so unexpected, worrying and – if he was honest with himself – adorable that it froze him for a while. Clint had most likely been aiming to down a mug of coffee. Which, evidently, never happened. The archer sat on a couch nearby the kitchen area, eyes closed and snoring softly, the already cold coffee resting on a table.

The sound Tony's phone made when he took a picture made the archer shiver, startled back to full awareness. "Good morning, sleeping beauty", he teased, despite the constantly growing ball of worry in the pit of his stomach. Something was _off_. "Sorry I woke you up, though. You look like you needed the rest."

"I wasn't sleeping", Clint argued. One blue eye was cracked halfway open. It was unnervingly bloodshot. "I was meditating."

Tony wasn't sure if he wanted to scream, laugh or roll his eyes. He produced what was a very weird mixture of them all. "Right… Sorry, buddy, but I'm not buying. You were snoring."

"It wasn't silent meditation."

"I'm still calling bullcrap." Well, at least Tony's snide remark succeeded in coaxing a tiny smirk. Hard as he tried he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a full Barton-trademark-grin. His eyebrows furrowed.

As did Clint's. "Stop that. Right now." The archer went on before he could ask. "You're thinking."

Tony blinked slowly. Still suffering from lack of actual sleep and coming down from… Well. "Yeah. And?"

"Stop it, you'll hurt yourself."

Tony had a witty remark coming up until Natasha walked into the room. She gave both of them a single glance and a warning look appeared to her eyes. "Knock it off or I'll end it", she warned, then focused on Clint who seemed to be struggling to wake up properly. "You okay?"

"'Course", Clint answered a little too quickly, working the words out through a yawn. All of a sudden he tensed up. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven forty-five", Tony announced. "Why? You got a hot lunch date or something?"

Clint didn't take the bait. Instead the man paled and got up. Only to shudder, agony loud and clear on his face for a few unguarded seconds.

"Hey!" Okay, that was it. Tony was honestly worried. "What…?"

"Stiff back", Clint cut him short. Making it very clear that he wasn't interested in offering any clarification. The archer licked his lips, the shivers dying down slowly until they were no longer visible.

"Where are you going?" Natatasha inquired.

"Don't worry, I'll be there for Steve's afternoon drill." With that Clint was gone. Like those words were all the answer needed.

Tony stared for a few seconds. Then blinked slowly, again. "That… was weird." He groaned, loudly, and ran a weary hand down his face. "We're gonna have to find out what's wrong, right?"

"Yes", was Natasha's – or perhaps rather Black Widow's – sharp and to-the-point answer.

Tony groaned again. Somehow feeling incredibly old all of a sudden. "I'm gonna need my suit for this. And a stiff drink."

* * *

Clint knew that he was late. He also knew that being late meant consequences. It took all his skill to hide how he was feeling when he entered the expensively furnished room.

He was just taking a glass of water when a voice spoke from directly behind him. "You made me worry that you ran, after all. That you betrayed me. You, my favorite pet. After all the liberties I've given you."

Clint was whirled around quickly and sharply, so that his injured back was slammed against the counter. Unable to stop himself he emitted a whimper of agony when it felt like he'd been stabbed again, repeatedly. For a second or two his vision swam and the glass slipped from his grasp, shattering to the floor.

But oh, that wasn't the end of it. A hand grabbed his throat, merciless and nauseatingly tender all at once. "You should know better by now, than to make me worry that I've lost you."

Clint's fists balled in a reflex as adrenaline spiked. While black spots danced in his line of vision he saw red. He was a fighter, not someone to be pushed around like this. Especially when he was already hurting. He was a fighter, even when he knew that it'd make things a thousand times worse.

Those eyes looking into his… For a while he imagined that he saw green tinged blue, until they returned to brown. The chilling threat in them didn't disappear for even a second. "I am going to ensure that you never forget your place again."

* * *

The two large men stood outside the room's door didn't flinch or look at each other when the noise began. Shouts, grunts, thuds, smashing and breaking items… They'd been ordered not to budge unless they were summoned and that was exactly what they'd do. They valued their health, after all.

* * *

TBC

* * *

1) 'Indiana Jones', in case you're wondering. (grins) (Me no own the original version!)

* * *

A/N: Oh dear gosh, poor Clint…! (shudders) At least Nat and Tony have a hunch, now. Let's just hope that they'll be able to help before it's too late!

SOOOOO… Was that any good? At all? PLEASE, do leave a comment down below to let me know! It'd seriously make my day to hear from you.

 **THE RATING OF THIS STORY WILL MOST LIKELY CHANGE TO M AS FROM THE NEXT CHAPTER, OR THE ONE AFTER THAT!**

Until next time, you guys! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!

* * *

Guest: Okay, so… There's absolutely no way I could say 'no' to that. (grins) I REALLY hope that you'll be as pleased with what's to come!

Huge thank yous for the review!

* * *

Anonymous: I TOTALLY get the feeling! (hugs) We'll see what comes out of this… I REEEEEEALLY hope that what's to come meets your expectations!

LOL, hurting Clint IS way too much fun!

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.

* * *

Nightshade: I'd NEVER say 'no' to such kind words. (hugs) I REALLY hope that you'll keep having a good ride! And that this doesn't become as sad as THAT story…

Massive thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	3. Wicked Games

A/N: PHEW! I've been traveling a bit so updating took longer than I hoped. BUT, here I am! (BEAMS) Yosh…?

THANK YOU, a million times, for your reviews, listings and love! The first steps of a new story are always unnerving. It means THE WORLD to me that you're all taking them with me! (HUGS)

Awkay, before I start sounding like a chick-flick… LET'S GO! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Wicked Games

* * *

Nick Fury was a tough man to track down. But with Natasha's skills combined to Tony's stubbornness and equipment the two of them got the job done. The one eyed man didn't even feign surprise upon finding them from his home when entering. "I'd offer coffee but something's telling me that this isn't a social call."

"Is Barton on some sort of a mission?" Tony beat Natasha to asking. Then shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Nat's worrying, and it's irritating."

If Natasha's look could've killed the billionaire would've been a dead man. She then focused on Fury. "We suspect that he's in a trouble. Laura agrees."

Fury sighed heavily. A careful eye caught his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "I just spoke to him. He feels that he has the situation under control."

"And how do you feel?" Natasha demanded. Only someone who knew her well caught the worry and frustrated anger in her eyes. Always the perfect spy.

Whatever _Fury_ felt was anyone's guess. "I trust my agent's judgement." Which sounded like a bad joke, since this was Clint Barton they were talking about. "The rest is classified information."

Tony groaned. Loudly. He was sick and tired of hearing that and almost said as much. "So you're telling us to just… What? Stand by and watch?" Another bad joke.

Fury's left eyebrow twitched. The man's voice was remarkably calm. "Yes. Unless you want to blow his cover and jeopardize his safety."

By some miracle Tony managed to hold his tongue until he and Natasha were in a car and she began to drive. "Under control my ass. And Fury knows it."

Natasha nodded. Sunglasses covered her eyes but her jawline was tight. "The drop of blood on his couch gave away as much."

"Do you think he'll notice that we got the flash drive?"

"With the 'Hawkeye' written on it he could've as well giftwrapped it for us." Natasha was lost in thought for a moment. She accelerated their speed to such that couldn't be safe. "Someone higher on the food chain is calling the shots and demanding him not to consult the Avengers officially."

"Good thing the One Eyed Menace has never been a fan of 'official'."

* * *

By that afternoon Clint didn't return to the Tower. Nor was he present when something resembling to a dinner was served several hours later. And that was when the team began to grow… concerned. Each in their own way.

Bruce and Tony retreated to work on the flash drive again, announcing firmly that they'd let the rest of them know if it included something interesting. Unlike usually the air around them was thick and they kept snapping at each other. It also said a lot how insistently they demanded the others to let them know the second they caught a glimpse of Clint.

Thor took the place on the rooftop Clint loved to occupy and first stood, then sat, there, keeping watch on the world he was still getting used to.

Steve retreated to the common space from which he could see Clint's eventual appearance as soon as the man walked in. He tried to watch a couple of those movies Tony had claimed 'absolutely necessary for anyone trying to settle in to the 21st century'. He couldn't focus at all and had a feeling that it didn't have much to do with the plot-line. For some reason his mind kept throwing nasty, vivid flashbacks of Bucky's fall, only this time his friend had Clint's face.

* * *

Natasha couldn't bring herself to stay still so she didn't. She didn't try to contact Laura, no matter how much she would've wanted to. It would've only led the woman and her children to danger and if Laura had been following Clint's advice she'd changed her phone number, anyway. So she did what she often resulted to upon suspecting that Clint was in a trouble. She opened a cell phone she practically never used. In half an hour she received a text.

' _Coffee?_ '

Cold formed a massive ball into the pit of her stomach. Natasha breathed a couple of times before a steel hard expression appeared to her face. She sent the name of a café and a command to meet her there in twenty minutes, then left as soon as she'd made sure that she was armed.

The café was quite nearby and, more importantly, just crowded enough to be safe. Natasha's eyes scanned through the people walking around, prepared to spot even the slightest trace of a threat. Soon enough she saw a man approaching her from the corner of her eye.

It wasn't Clint, just like the texted code-word suggested.

A very young, timid looking you man walked towards her table with an uncertain look on his face. She recognized a former addict from the way he was twitching and sweating – because not all of it could be explained by nerves – but his eyes told that at the moment he was clean. Somehow she wasn't surprised. She didn't start or finish the steady line of poor unfortunate souls Clint had kicked towards a better path.

"Natalia?" the man asked quietly, glancing around to make sure that no one heard him. That name was another code. Clint had agreed to use it whenever he was 'in a tight spot', as he called them.

She nodded, preparing herself for whatever was to come.

Natasha tensed up, healthily cautious despite trusting Clint's judgement of character, when the young man's hand disappeared from sight. What came out was a thick, brown envelope. The stranger's hand shook when he handed it to her. "Barton… He told me to give you this if… something happened." The man swallowed, unmasked fear and worry in his hazel eyes. "He… He didn't send today's ten o'clock signal."

Well, that sounded like Clint. Quite often he had such a backup plan during the most challenging missions. Natasha accepted the envelope and eyed it critically. There was a small, red arrow drawn to the top right corner. Definitely from Clint, then. "Thank you", she uttered, her voice far calmer than she felt. Because surely the kid deserved at least that much after risking his safety this way.

The young man shrugged. "I… owed Barton a big one. Just…" He shifted weight. "Just help him, yeah? He's a good guy."

Natasha nodded. "I will." She'd try her hardest. Because that kid wasn't the only one who owed Clint.

As soon as the young man had left Natasha made sure that no unwanted eyes were watching, then opened the envelope. The first thing which floated out was a photograph. It represented a very, very young Clint Barton and a man she didn't remember seeing before. Yet despite knowing nothing about the stranger she felt cold shivers running down her spine.

Those inhumanly cold brown eyes weren't the worst part. Nor was it that small, frosty smile. What truly chilled her was the hand on the young archer's shoulder, and the large man's posture. Because it was painfully obvious what sort of a relationship those two had. No matter how much training and experience she had Natasha couldn't keep some of her feelings from showing. Her stomach twisted and turned.

What had Clint gotten himself into?

* * *

The files on the flash drive were strictly encrypted. Even with the combined skills of Tony and Bruce it took a considerable amount of time to crack them open. If they hadn't been on a clock they might've been impressed.

Who would've thought that Clint had some mad computer skills…!

There were a lot of files. But the one which stood out the most a video clip. Curious, the four men present decided to click it open.

What they saw was Clint fighting. Which wasn't exactly anything new. But this time he wasn't on the field or wearing his mission gear. Instead the place looked like some sort of an underground fighting arena. Clint was throwing kicks and punches despite already being horribly bruised. Clearly fighting for his life. A lot of people were watching as though it was some sort of a circus show, roaring and raging like animals as they screamed at the two men to kill each other. One spectator stood out amongst the rest.

It was a tall man with shortcut, pale brown hair and brown eyes. He stood there with his arms folded, a picture of confidence and dominance. Quite clearly he was the Alpha Dog of the place. And his gaze held lust as it observed Clint's every move.

"Who the hell is that creep?" Tony muttered, and for once Steve was too preoccupied to scold him over using such language.

"Jacob Ford." Natasha's sudden appearance startled them all. She threw a file to the table in front of them, nausea and fury in her eyes. "We have to find Clint quickly. He's gotten himself into a huge trouble."

* * *

On quite many standards Jacob Ford was a monster. He arranged fights in which people were injured with permanent consequences and killed all the time. He ended lives without the slightest hint of remorse because to him a human life was nothing but another toy to play with. He'd been labelled soulless by all the people who didn't know that he had a weakness. Only one, which he saw very clearly as he glared at the shards of the glass Clint dropped before his disciplinary actions.

Clint Barton slipped from his clutches once. He wasn't going to let the same mistake happen again. No matter who he had to… consult.

Quite soon the bedroom door opened. His eyes shifted to side just in time to see a man with shoulder length, dark hair and the strangest eyes he'd ever seen emerging. His companion didn't even try to conceal his disgust. "He's been handled", the other man drawled, the tone making the displeasure even clearer. "It sickens me what you do to your… plaything. Please ensure that I never have to take care of a mess like this again."

Ford took a breath. It didn't really help him calm down. "Thank you."

"Oh no, don't make the mistake of thanking me. This wasn't a friendly favor." The other man's eyes obtained something truly dangerous and threatening. "I'm going to ensure that you repay me for this."

Ford knew better than to underestimate the threat and roll his eyes. "Of course, Mr. Laufeyson." He pursed his lips. "You have a very interesting way of doing business in… where did you come from again, northern Europe?"

The man gave him a half mischievous, half chilling smile which teased him to try asking again. "Oh yes. I come from… up north, alright."

A few minutes later Ford entered the bedroom. He almost felt bad at the sight of a horribly beaten, still bloodied Clint. It would've been even easier to feel bad at the glazed over, dazed look in the eye that hadn't swollen shut. "I tried being reasonable with you, but you insisted on being difficult", he reminded the other. He stopped only two steps away, sharp eyes on his battered companion. "Now… Let's try this a one more time." He ran a hand through Clint's hair. The man didn't resist, fight back or even flinch. "What is your name here?"

The answer came without hesitation or lies. "I'm no one." It wouldn't have required much of a genius to detect that Clint meant it. The man looked at him without malice or disgust. That look… held absolutely nothing. "I have no name. I'm just a pet."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Some of you were already suspecting that Loki may make an appearance. Others mused that it may be someone else entirely after Clint. You were all right. (grins) But GOSH, poor Clint – he's facing his absolutely worst nightmare, and who knows what tricks Loki just played with his mind! Now what is Ford going to do with him? (gulps)

PLEASE, do feed the box down below a word or two! I'd LOVE to hear from you.

 **AND REMEMBER THAT AS FROM THE NEXT CHAPTER THE RATING WILL BE M.**

Awkay, I REALLY have to go now. Until next time! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!

* * *

Anonymous: I'm absolutely overjoyed that you're so eager to read more! I REALLY hope that what's to come meets your expectations. LOL, don't worry – you're not half as bad as I am…

Massive thank yous for the review! Until next time.

* * *

Nightshade: Let's hope that Fury knows enough to get him out of this! (GULPS) Poor Clint! Because oh yes, it's going to get worse… (shudders)

Monumental thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	4. A Hawk in a Cage

A/N: PHEW! I've been traveling (Spain's AMAZING!) so it took me longer than usual to update. (winces apologetically) BUT, here we go so… Yay?

First off! THANK YOU, a million times, for your INCREDIBLE reviews, listings and support! You can't even imagine how much they mean to me. (HUGS)

Awkay, before I get all mushy… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

A Hawk in a Cage

* * *

/ _There was a pitch-black spot in Clint's history between leaving the circus and becoming a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. He had no home, no family or friends, no one to trust but himself. He had nowhere to go and no one who would've even noticed if he would've dropped dead. In that desperate time he did whatever he had to in order to survive. He was young and hot-blooded. Not all of the things he did were such he could be proud of._

 _That rainy, dark night of October he actually chose to do the good thing for once. When he saw three large men following a young woman who appeared to be deep in thought he sniffed trouble. Tossing aside the most important street rule – 'if it's not your business don't make it your business' – he began to follow, his eyebrows furrowed and preparing himself for anything. Wishing that he'd taken his bow along. As soon as he heard the woman's cries he knew that he'd guessed correctly._

 _"Hey!" He stepped forward without the slightest trace of fear or hesitation. "Leave her alone!"_

 _The attackers stared at him for a few seconds like he'd gained a second head. Then burst into laughter. "Are you serious, brat?" one of them – probably the pack leader – sneered. "Look, kid, save yourself from an ass-kicking and go home. This is grown up business."_

 _Clint shrugged. Even lifted his chin. "Well it's my business, too, now."_

 _Another one of the men, the largest and tallest, glanced towards the boss. "Do you want me to pop out that punk's brain?" A hand was already reaching out towards a non-subtly holstered gun._

 _"Why waste bullets? Gunshot wounds always cause too much hassle, anyway." The leader began to approach him, a dangerous gleam in his brown eyes. "We'll handle this the old fashioned way."_

 _Clint's hand-to-hand experience was quite limited. The men surrounding him were bigger and far more skilled. That considered, he faired remarkably well. He even managed to knock out one of them and give the two others magnificent bruises. Which was clearly an unforgivable blow at their ego. They paid back eagerly and determinedly. In the middle of a horrific pummeling Clint caught a glimpse of the woman he'd tried to save. She ran away without looking back and disappeared into the night._

 _If he was brutally honest with himself Clint didn't know how much longer he would've endured. It was a harsh, commanding man's voice which brought the harsh treatment to an end. "So this is what you've reduced to? Beating up children?" The arrival snorted at the looks of terror he received. "Get the hell out of my sight and take the trashes with you."_

 _Barely conscious, Clint watched in a daze how the two still conscious attackers grabbed their companion with them and fled. As soon as they were gone the arrival's steps were approaching him. "I watched your little… spectacle. Today wasn't your day but with a little help you could become something magnificent." The man stopped. Just one look into those eyes was enough to give anyone chills. "You owe me your life, boy. Why not repay with allowing me to… educate you?"_

 _Clint blinked sluggishly. Black spots danced in his line of vision. "'doesn't sound like I've got a choice", he slurred._

 _The last thing he saw before blacking out was Jacob Ford's eerie smile._ /

* * *

The further Tony got with Jacob Ford's file the more his eyes widened. And the tighter his hold on the papers became. "So, uh… This guy? Won't be winning the Boy Scout of the Year reward anytime soon."

Bruce's eyebrows were furrowed. "His name's been linked to all sorts of things. Arms and drug dealing, illegal underground fights… The problem is that there's no proper, solid evidence against him." The scientist shook his head. "What does Clint have to do with him?"

"I think he's been trying to stop that guy", Natasha mused darkly. They didn't remember ever seeing her quite so tense before. "And if he took all these precautions… He was worried that things might go wrong."

"He was sent there alone?" Steve affirmed with a deep frown of disapproval on his face.

"We've both done undercover operations before." She hesitated before revealing a one more picture for them to see. It was that of young Clint with Ford. "And it seems that he was the best option for the job."

Steve was a man from a very different reality. But the rest of them saw exactly what Natasha did when she first looked at the picture. Clint's expression and body language, as well as Ford's… They looked at each other with somber faces, knowing that if they wouldn't find Clint soon there might be nothing left of their friend.

* * *

Fury found out about Clint's disappearance soon after. Of course he did. And although he would've never admitted it for the three days which followed every single time he entered his home he anticipated – hoped – that Clint might somehow be there once more. Until one day he came home to a sight which froze him to the doorway.

There on his couch were Clint's much loved bow and a great amount of arrows, along with an official resignation form.

Fury sighed heavily. His shoulders dropped in uncharacteristic defeat and worry. "Barton, what have you gotten yourself into?"

* * *

Jacob Ford wasn't surprised to wake up alone in the middle of the night. He was disappointed, yes. But no surprised. With a heavy, irritated sigh he pushed himself up and draped a dressing gown to cover his naked form, then headed towards the most likely location.

Just like many times before he found Clint from the building's rooftop. The naked man stood dangerously close to the edge with his back to him. Looking down, either observing or evaluating.

"It's an awfully long way down, Pet."

Clint was quiet for a very long time. Then sighed heavily. "It's beautiful down there."

Words that a doctor told him just a few days earlier echoed in Jacob's head. / _"There's only so long you can force him into staying if he's decided to go."_ / The doctor had a… tragic accident less than twenty-four hours after that prognosis.

Jacob's eyes narrowed. He had no patience for this. "Do you remember what happened the last time you attempted to leave?" He went on after a nod. "Do you want it to happen again?" A shake of a head followed. "That's what I thought. Now come inside before I have to punish you."

Clint obeyed without saying a word. Walked past him, even went as far as to allow him to touch. While Ford led the archer inside he failed to see something.

There, hidden in Clint's apathetic, glazed over eyes, a tiny flame of defiance still flickered stubbornly, buried so deep into the shattered man that even the Hawk himself wasn't aware of it.

* * *

When a week had passed by Natasha decided that she'd been patient enough. Their attempts at gathering evidence against Ford weren't working fast enough. And based on Fury's report about Clint's bow and arrows time was running out. So she did the only thing she could.

She headed right into the dragon's lair, disguised by an obnoxious blond wig and a pair of contact lenses which held a camera, prepared by a long lecture from Steve.

She smiled non-coyly at the fighting arena's bouncer, a thin bald man who was shorter than her. His eyebrow arched appreciatively. "Now what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Like a true spy Natasha managed to keep her expression flirtatious. Even when she felt sick to her stomach. "Sometimes pretty girls get bored."

He searched her for weapons far more lengthily than he would've had to, which was nothing less than she'd expected. A suggestive glance and a moan at a right spot were enough to ensure that she was able to smuggle in a firearm and a knife. Pathetically easy, really.

She was just about to head inside when the man spoke out once more. "Hang on." The bouncer tilted his head. "Have I met you before?"

She rolled her eyes. Her body was already preparing itself for a fight. "If you had you wouldn't need to ask."

The man grinned in an absolutely nauseating manner, and whatever tension had lingered in the air for a moment faded away. "Yeah, I'd imagine." He licked his lips, his hungry gaze scanning her through from head to toe. "Can I ask for a name for such a beautiful face?"

Natasha's patience was running out and he wasn't helping matters. She was already walking away while she answered. "Scarlet."

"I suppose asking for a phone number would be…"

"… hazardous to your health", she filled in for him. "So just don't." It was a friendly advice, really.

The place she entered was smaller than she expected. It reeked of sweat, blood and alcohol, to a point where she felt tempted to hold her breath. It was crowded by infuriatingly loud people, each person gathered there more drunk or high than the last. Some gave her looks that would've made a lesser woman shiver or gag. Most were too out of it to acknowledge her existence, which was how she preferred.

She looked around, making sure that Tony – who was monitoring the footage her contacts sent – got a proper visual. Eventually her gaze landed on Ford. He was stood in the sidelines with three people in suits, as though having some sort of a business meeting. She counted five security guards. Ford seemed to barely notice his company, or her for the matter. His gaze was nailed on the fighting ring. Natasha's stomach knotted when she followed the look.

Clint was there, fighting a guy who had to be at least half a head taller than him. Knuckles bloodied and lip split, but still standing tall. She'd never seen the kind of a look his eyes held right then and it chilled her to the bone.

Those were the eyes of a trapped wild animal which didn't see a way out.

She shivered when Clint received a new blow, such that nearly knocked him down. But the Hawk was resilient if nothing else. With the fire and stubbornness of an experienced fighter the man first punched his opponent, then finished off the stunned giant with a fierce kick. The opponent fell and clearly wasn't about to get back up again. Clint glared at the man, breathing hard and visibly painfully through what might've been broken ribs. The archer didn't make a move to leave the ring until someone in a black shirt came to escort him away.

While Clint walked away their eyes happened to meet. Only briefly but quite long enough for Natasha to come to a chilling conclusion. At first there was recognition. Then came such utter coldness and hatred she'd never once faced before, despite everything she'd done.

"Something's wrong", Natasha murmured to her ear comm, making sure that no one around her noticed.

" _You think?_ " Tony's voice was tight and full of worry the billionaire would've never admitted to having felt. " _What the hell was that all about?_ "

"I don't know." Natasha gritted her teeth. "But I'm going to find out." Even if she had a feeling that she wouldn't like the results.

It took torturously long before she was able to make her move. When Ford was clearly preoccupied by his business partners she began to head towards the direction Clint had taken. What she found was some sort of a mockery of a medical wing.

Well, at least it was better than nothing…

Natasha ensured that there was no one to see or hear. She also scanned the ceiling for security cameras and spotted none. Good. Then, her heels unnaturally loud in that eerily quiet part of the building, she made her way into the room and closed the door.

Clint was pulling on his shirt as she walked in, just in time to see a chilling map of bruises, scars and other damage. He lifted his head, obviously sensing a presence, and faced her through the mirror in front of him. Every little part of him stiffened, the barely suppressed rage becoming palpable. "You have some nerve…", he hissed in the kind of a voice she'd never heard before. "… to come to me. Did they send you to finish off me, too?"

Frost sped through Natasha's veins, freezing her heart for a second or two. _What…?!_ "No. I'm here to take you home." What the hell was going on?

Clint snorted bitterly. "Home?" If his tone was hostile before, now it was pure ice. He breathed in twice, sharply. "You burned down my home! You burned down my family!" Tears filled his eyes, a few of them spilled down his cheeks. "Cooper… Lila… Laura… They… They had names! They had lives!"

Natasha's heart shattered in her chest. She had a feeling that her own eyes watered but she didn't care. _Oh god…!_ Was it true? Was the archer's family really…? She took a step closer without even noticing it. "Clint…"

Clint's eyes narrowed and the man emitted a terrifying growl in the back of his throat. "Take a step closer…", he hissed. "… and I'll kill you with my bare hands. And I don't want to do it yet." His eyes narrowed, glaring at her like he was already picturing her dead. "First I'm going to destroy _your_ family. Because I want you to experience how this feels. Every… little… bit."

Natasha had no idea what to say. What to think. The full gravity of this nightmare stole her breath away. Until she emitted a pained gasp. "Well… That's gonna be a problem." She could only hope that somewhere, deep down, the man she'd known was listening. That she'd get through to him. "Because you're the closest thing to a family I've ever had in this world."

She never got the chance to see his reaction. Because just then a voice she assumed to be Ford's called out, coming from almost directly behind the room's other entrance. " _Pet? Is doc done with you already?_ "

Clint looked away for only two seconds. It was enough. When he looked again Natasha was gone.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh… gosh…! Is Clint's family really gone? And what will it take to break him free from this nightmare – is it even possible? Poor Natasha, too!

Soooooooo… Thoughts? Comments? Rants…? PLEASE, do let me know! It's always awesome to hear from you!

Until next time! I really hope that I'll see ya all there.

Take care!

* * *

Nightshade: What's Loki done this time, I wonder? (winces) But DANG, I'm SUPER happy that you think I wrote him well. (BEAMS)

Poor, poor Clint, though! It looks like he's in pretty much his worst nightmare. (shudders)

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.

* * *

Anonymous: Who is he indeed? And what the heck happened to Clint?! (shivers) We'll see what the next chapter reveals…

Massive thank yous for the review! Until next time.

* * *

Guest: We'll see, we'll see… (grins) But at least he's gonna mess up Clint's head pretty good… (winces)

Gigantic thank yous for the review!


	5. A Flight into the Dark

A/N: It took WAAAAAAAAAAAAY too long, and I'm really, really sorry! (WINCES) BUT, now the next chapter is FINALLY here. Hoorah?

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your AMAZING reviews, love and support! You guys kept this story alive, kept the fire burning. I REALLY hope that I'll manage to repay that with this and future updates! (HUGS)

Awkay, before I get all sappy… Let's go!

* * *

A Flight into the Dark

* * *

It rained on the day Clint's family was buried. What was left of them, anyway. Laura's mother wept in her husband's arms, loud and bitter tears, as the mostly empty urns were lowered to the ground.

A lot of trees, even a tiny river… Laura would've loved the spot her parents chose. Clint wasn't surprised. Those two had never been big fans of his but they loved their daughter and grandchildren from the bottom of their hearts.

And now they were gone, because of him. Because on one Valentine's Day fate chose to make their paths cross. Her fate was sealed. Hers, and her at the time unborn children's.

Clint was glad that the rain swept away his tears unnoticed. It did little to help with his shattered heart but he didn't care. He'd learned to hide one of those since he was a little boy.

"Is this enough for you?" Jacob Ford inquired, sounding impatient and annoyed.

Clint nodded uncharacteristically quietly. Coming here had been the most painful thing he'd ever done in his life. But he needed to say goodbye, to gain enough strength to make it through what'd come next.

Ford wrapped a possessive arm around him and pulled him close, either ignoring or enjoying upon seeing the way he shivered from repulsion. "You're such a disgusting dog, you know." The criminal… was frustrated. "I could drop you right here and you wouldn't even flinch, would you?"

Clint didn't react. Only stared right into Ford's demon's eyes. What did he have left to be afraid of, anymore? The Avengers had taken away everything and what scraps they left Ford took care of.

Ford's free hand caressed his face. Cool and smooth. "Such waste…", the man sighed gloomily and shook his head. "I won't let you join them yet, Pet. And you're not done just yet, either, are you? When we get home you're going to send me right to heaven."

Clint wanted to scream. To throw up. But he kept himself together with all the strength there still was in his hollow soul.

"Yes, you are", Ford murmured. The man pulled him closer still. "Because I know someone who can help you become strong enough to wipe away those who stole your family."

Finally Clint felt a tiny spark of life.

* * *

Bruce could see that Natasha was trembling as they approached the Farm. He couldn't blame her. His own heart was hammering and breaking all at once. Neither of them spoke as they crossed the forest area leading to the building. Bruce had to focus very, very hard on keeping the Other Guy from taking over, because the hazardous tingling under his skin kept escalating by each passing second. They were both fighting to not think about what might be waiting for them.

Until the whole sick nightmare towered in front of them.

There was nothing but ruins and ashes left of the Farm. It'd been burned to the ground and the containers with which the gasoline was brought had been left as evidence. People had definitely died there, there was no doubt about it. Yet somehow even worse was the massive hawk-symbol which had been burned to the grass.

Bruce glanced towards Natasha and was shocked to see a few tears running down her pale cheeks. It took a while before he found his voice. "Natasha…"

Natasha shook her head. The moisture was the only crack on her ice-cold exterior. "Let's gather some samples and search through the place. We need to find out who died here."

Bruce frowned. The idea of approaching the ruins of what was once the whole team's sanctuary… "This is a crime scene", he pointed out.

"Do you see any investigators? Or crime scene tapes?" Natasha's voice was harder than steel. But she was still trembling, and her eyes weren't entirely dry. "They've already decided that Clint did this. And as far as he knows I did."

Bruce had no idea what to say to that. How to comfort her when things were so very bleak. So, instead of talking, he gave her hand a tender squeeze which she returned. Then they walked on like nothing had happened, their steps and hearts heavy.

They could only hope and pray that what they'd eventually find out wouldn't be what they were dreading. That one day, when Clint came back… He might still have a family to return to.

* * *

Tony didn't know when was the last time he'd slept. He did doze off on occasion, for a few moments. But as soon as he did flashes of Clint all alone, in pain and suffering, filled his head. He wanted a drink, desperately. Only the thought that Clint deserved better, that the archer needed him sober, kept his hand from reaching out towards a bottle.

Tony was in the grips of a yet another nightmare when a gentle, tentative hand coaxed him out of it. He gasped, closing his fists tightly, and almost struck until a familiar voice spoke. "Tony? You okay?"

Tony turned his head. For a couple of treacherous seconds he could've sworn that he was looking at Clint. But then his head cleared, revealing a very worried Bruce stood in front of him. The billionaire swallowed thickly, unable to erase the bitter taste. "'am fine", he slurred, then yawned. It took some time before he could think more clearly. "How was the Farm?"

In an instant Bruce's face crumbled. Did the scientist's eyes water, even flash green? The man's shoulders slumped.

Tony gulped again. Nothing short of panic grabbed a hold of him. "Bruce? What the hell is going on?"

"The Farm… There's nothing left of it. We took a few samples but…" Bruce shook his head and looked down, then back at him. "I… I didn't have the heart to show Natasha this. Not yet." The man took something from his pocket and showed it to him.

Tony's heart broke at the same speed with which his stomach dropped. He felt like he'd been struck. His mouth opened but for once nothing came out.

There, on Bruce's hand, was a wedding ring – Laura's wedding ring.

* * *

A couple of days later Steve was having the worst headache of his entire life, and that was saying a lot. But with everything that'd happened recently… Was it any wonder?

"… been keeping track on Ford. Unofficially, of course." It was a surprise that Tony's strained voice managed to reach him. "The creep's left the States. He's covered his tracks pretty well but I think he's somewhere in Europe."

"Do you think he took Clint with him?"

Tony nodded solemnly. "Ford's gotta know that we're looking for Clint. He wouldn't take the risk of leaving him behind."

"Even though Clint doesn't want us to find him", Natasha mused out loud in a dark voice, not even trying to disguise a hint of bitterness.

Steve took a deep breath. This was a member of his team – a friend, a comrade. He'd once sworn to leave no man behind and he wasn't going to give up now. "Keep looking for traces. Maybe Ford's made a mistake at some point."

"Do you really think I'd stop?" Tony snapped with venom that wasn't really directed at Steve.

They were worried, on the edge and exhausted. The whole nightmare had continued for so long and they were utterly drained. It might've escalated to a full fight if unnaturally loud steps hadn't caught their attention.

By the time Steve looked over his shoulder Thor was marching away. He frowned. "Where are you going?"

"For a walk." Thor's voice was far harsher than usual. Full of barely suppressed emotions. "There is nothing I can do for friend Clint here." With that he left the room.

Steve moved to follow until Natasha laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let him cool off", she advised with a sigh. "Trying to get through to him when he's like that would do no good."

"Guys." In the middle of the drama they'd almost forgotten about Bruce, who manned the room's other computer. The scientist appeared far paler than usual. "I… just got some results from the samples we took when visiting the Farm."

* * *

When Thor was first exiled to Midgard he expected a lot of things. But he didn't expect that he'd grow fond of humans. That he'd learn more from them than he'd learned from anyone in his own realm. They made him a better person, a true leader, someone worthy of his mighty weapon. They saved him from himself. And for that he owed them an eternal gratitude. He was determined to at least try to repay some of that immense debt. Starting from helping a friend.

Someone like him was bound to catch immediate attention as he walked into the underground fighting arena. Despite the fact that he'd cut his hair and wore a set of training clothes a few people seemed to be wondering if they'd seen him somewhere. But no one spoke out. Good. Becoming recognized would've destroyed his chances of keeping a low profile. He told the suspicious looking man greeting him that his name was Chris, and that he wanted to beat up someone.

"Well, you've come to the right place." The man began to lead him directly to the pit of the hellish place. "Australian, huh? We haven't had a lot of Aussies here."

Thor had no idea how the man came to such a conclusion but decided to play along.

Soon they reached an elevator. His companion spoke once the doors closed, first contacting someone via ear comm before focusing on him. "Mr. Ford is… traveling right now. But he's left his second in command in charge. He's agreed to meet you."

The floor they entered soon was decorated with an incredible amount of luxury. In some bizarre way it reminded Thor of the palace he grew up in. The thought made his stomach twist. Thinking of Clint helped him regain focus. Now wasn't the time to dwell in the past.

In a few fleeting seconds he was led into a room that was nothing but glory. He admired it for a heartbeat, until his gaze strayed. _Nothing_ in that world or any other could've prepared him for what he faced.

The man sitting at the other side of a desk chuckled upon seeing him. "Well hello, brother dear. You look like you'd seen a ghost."

* * *

The building Clint was taken to chilled him instantly. Sterile. Clinical. Cold.

The mental image of his family gave him strength.

He was abandoned to a tiny, almost entirely white laboratory. Ford argued with someone for several minutes outside the room until a man Clint couldn't remember having faced ever before entered the room. It was a relief that the man didn't even try to smile. "Good evening, Clint. I'm William Stryker. I assume that you know what we're about to do to you…?"

Clint nodded. "Scientific experiments. You won't have to force them on me, I'm a willing test subject." What did he have to lose anymore?

Stryker blinked twice with surprise. "Well. It's rare that we receive one, if I'm to be honest. You do realize that… we aren't able to guarantee you surviving those tests, don't you?"

"Then so be it." And Clint meant it. "But if I do survive… Make sure that my family didn't die for nothing."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh, how dark of a path Clint's on…! But maybe somehow, someway, he'll still find his way back home… And what about his poor family?!

Thoughts? Comments? Rants? PELASE, do let me hear from ya! It always make me insanely happy.

Awkay, I REALLY have to go and get some sleep. Until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll meet you all there.

Take care!

* * *

Anonymous: Heartbreaking it was! Oh, what a horror story Clint's been shoved into. (whimpers)

Colossal thank yous for the review! I really hope that the next one's worth the wait.

* * *

IchstehzuMnchen: I'm really happy that you do, because there's more of that to come…! (gulps) I really hope that you'll keep enjoying the ride.

Massive thank yous for the review!

* * *

Guest: A torturous cliffie, wasn't it? (GROANS) Let's hope that this story can have a at least somewhat happy ending.

Gigantic thank yous for the review!

* * *

User: You gave me the final push I needed to update! (BEAMS, and hugs) I REALLY hope that the next chapter meets all your expectations.

Monumenta thank yous for the review and push of inspiration!


	6. Slipping, Slipping, Slipped Away

A/N: I'M BAAAAAAACK! With another update, no less. BUT, first…!

GOSH! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews and love! After the LONG updating gap it means the world to mean that you're all still sticking around. (HUGS)

NOW! Let's see how this dark, dark flight continues… (GULPS) Turbulence ahoy!

* * *

Slipping, Slipping, Slipped Away

* * *

Thor stared. Just stared, his head spinning and feeling like the whole world had just been flipped upside down. Feeling so much at one go that it threatened to suffocate him.

His brother… His brother he lost… Who died in his arms…

"Do you need a glass of water?" Loki tilted his head. As usual it was impossible to tell what the trickster was thinking or feeling. "You've started turn into a funny shade of green."

"You're alive", Thor murmured, trying to will that information into his head.

"Yes, it would appear so. And you got a new haircut." Loki smirked. It looked right and wrong all at once. "Edgy. I like it."

The first shock began to ebb away. Anger was quick to star rolling in. "What are you doing here? In this place?" Why would even someone with Loki's twisted sense of humor want anything to do with this despicable place?

Loki shrugged with a longsuffering expression. As though this conversation was beneath him. "Killing time."

Thor began to feel cold at those words. Whatever it was his brother was up to… "Until what?"

Loki's smile was ice-cold. "You'll see soon enough, brother dear. I know that patience isn't your strongest suit but I'm not going to ruin the surprise."

Thor definitely didn't like this. At all. "What have you done with Barton?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "You've always been so bad at sharing your toys." The trickster then seemed to think about it. "Must be because I've always ended up breaking them somehow." Another frosty and cheeky little smile appeared. "Don't worry, you'll get your little Hawk back as soon as I'm good and done with him. If Ford doesn't break him first. For now…" Loki gave him a dramatic little wave. "Bye, brother dear. See you soon."

And before Thor could do a thing Loki was gone.

* * *

Tony sat with his head buried in his hands, focused on breathing.

It was only a blink of an eye ago he found out that Clint had a family. And now… Now it looked like that family didn't exist anymore. Obviously they didn't have the kids' or Laura's DNA-samples to compare their findings with, but they had Clint's. Tony's system found enough of a match to suggest that they stumbled upon the remains of his child. A male one.

"Cooper…", Natasha gasped in the kind of a voice they didn't remember hearing before. Her facial expression betrayed nothing but there was sheer anguish in her eyes. Of course she'd had Clint's word on his family's fate but having it confirmed this way… She walked away before anyone of them could say a thing. Bruce followed a few moments later.

Tony barely registered any of that. All he could focus on was keeping a panic attack at bay. Which was why Steve's voice startled him. "Tony…"

"Not now, Rogers", he muttered. He didn't want to hear pathetic words of comfort. Or stone cold facts.

"We need to focus." Steve's voice was strained, suggesting that the Captain felt every bit as bad as he did. "We need to find Clint."

"You think he wants to be found?" Tony knew that he sounded bitter but couldn't bring himself to care. "There's… The signs were there for ages. And we didn't realize that something was wrong until this whole crap blew up on our faces. We failed him and his family, Steve. As far as he knows we killed them. I guess we could've as well."

"I know." Steve sighed heavily, and it was quite possibly the most defeated the Captain had ever sounded. "That's exactly why we need to find him, before he decides to come after us and things get ever worse."

"You imagine that they could get worse than this?"

* * *

Clint's heart hammered and his whole body shivered as he lay on an extremely uncomfortable examination table. He focused on the ceiling to avoid thinking about the people working around him. To avoid looking at the straps binding him to the table.

"This is your last chance to back down."

Clint gritted his teeth. Braced himself. "Just get it done already." This was probably the worst mistake of his entire life but what did he have to lose?

The substance burned like fire as it was inserted to his bloodstream. Clint closed his eyes to block it out. Used all his might to conjure up mental images that hurt even more.

Laura. The kids. His family he'd never get to see again. His family which had been stolen from him. By people he'd been stupid enough to trust.

When the pain finally got too much and Clint lost consciousness a solitary tear made its way down his unhealthily pale cheek.

* * *

From the other side of a plexiglass William Stryker and Jacob Ford observed the whole thing. Stryker with eerie calmness, Ford with a frown of barely controlled temper. "I don't like this", Ford announced at last. "If his body isn't able to…"

"… then he dies, and this world has one infuriating pest less." Stryker's eyes hardened as the serum began to really take affect and the archer gasped painfully. "You do realize that he's going to die in any case, don't you? The question is, will he be useful before that happens." He rolled his eyes at the other's tension. "You're a grown man, Ford. You shouldn't get attached to your pets."

Ford's lips opened and there was no telling what might've come out. Someone entering the room interrupted the man, and they peered over their shoulders to see a young, timid looking woman. "I'm… sorry, sir, but I have some important information."

"What is it?" Stryker snapped, well aware of the fact that patience wasn't his virtue.

"Black Widow and Iron Man… They visited the Farm. They know."

Stryker's jawline tightened. "Ahead of schedule." He hated it when things didn't happen on schedule. Without paying the slightest bit of attention to his companions he took his phone and dialed entirely too familiar numbers.

Nick Fury's annoyed, tense voice picked up. " _What is it? I'm busy at the moment._ "

"Yes, I'd imagine you are, since Widow must've reported the news like a good girl scout." Stryker inspected his fingernails. Something that looked like dried blood was stuck under one of them. "You shouldn't concern yourself with attempting to locate agent Barton. I have him in custody over the murders of his wife and children." Before any protests could be voiced he went on sharply, uncompromisingly. "Protocol 9239." True, Fury was his superior. But in this case the man was also too emotionally attached. Which was why Stryker could overrule his order to ensure that Clint would receive a proper treatment for his crimes.

Fury was quiet for a very, very long time. " _Where is he?_ " The one eyed man's voice was full of venom.

"Do you really imagine that I'd be stupid enough to tell you?" Stryker observed Clint with hard eyes as he spoke. "You've saved that unstable, pathetic excuse of an agent too many times. As a result things escalated and now an innocent family has been murdered. It's high time someone takes his case out of your hands." With that he hung up.

"You do realize that he'll use every last bit of his resources to track down that phone call, don't you?"

"Don't worry." Stryker pursed his lips, firing away a couple of text messages. "I have resources and connections, too."

On the other side of the plexiglass Clint became horrifyingly still and the whole room exploded into frantic action.

* * *

 _Six Months Later_

* * *

Thor never returned to the others. He did notify them of the threat of Loki, but he knew that his brother needed to be stopped and he had the best chance of finding the trickster. Especially when he knew what his brother was after.

The Sceptre.

Today, at last, he was about to find that cursed thing. The only problem was that it was guarded by a small army of HYDRA-operatives. It took all the patience he had but he waited until the nightshift took over.

Thor frowned, about to make his move. Only ten guards tonight? That seemed suspiciously sloppy.

And then William Stryker appeared. The man's hand gave a small wave as a charming smile was offered to the guards. "Evening, gentlemen. I assume you have something for me?"

One of the guards nodded wordlessly and handed over the Sceptre. Before, Thor suspected. At that moment, watching the arrival take the offering greedily, he knew.

Too late.

Stryker's face remained unchanged. But the eyes, and that grin… "Too slow, brother." And once again Loki was gone.

* * *

Ever since he first made contact with the military Steve swore one thing to himself. 'Leave no man behind.' And he was determined to stick to that promise, even though he'd been torn away from his own time.

Which was why still, even after half a year had passed, Steve hadn't given up on the search. Hadn't given up on hope that maybe, just maybe, Clint might still be out there somewhere. Waiting for someone to bring him back home.

The search led him around the world. Officially he was on an indefinite vacation. Unofficially Fury kept sending him hints as often as the man could. Until now, finally, Steve was led to one of Clint's favorite hideouts.

The apartment was almost completely dark, aside a single light providing its pale gleam. He entered cautiously, all too aware of how dangerous it was to infiltrate a former assassin's temporary home. Each step was slow and calculative.

"There's no need to tiptoe, Captain." He knew that voice all too well. "I must admit that I would've expected you to turn up sooner."

Some kind of magic was definitely in use. Because Steve stood there, paralyzed, as someone who wasn't supposed to be alive emerged from the shadows. A familiar cold smirk greeted him long before the words did.

"It's time to test, Captain Rogers, whether you have heart, too."

* * *

While the rest of the Avengers scattered – the team combusting one by one – Tony didn't remain idle, either. He used up a lot of favors, called a lot of people he'd sworn to never contact again. Did stuff that wasn't strictly legal. But it wasn't all useless.

Tony kept tracking down Jacob Ford until he found himself from the man's brand-new fighting arena. Stood right beside the criminal. "You know, Mr. Stark… If I'd known that you were interested, I would've sent you an invitation."

Tony shrugged. His lips smiled, even if his eyes didn't. "I like to surprise."

Ford's smile was the perfect copy of his. "So do I." The man nodded towards the arena just as an announcer's voice spoke out.

" _In the blue corner… The one and only true, original national hero… CAPTAIN AMERICA!_ "

Tony's eyes widened, despite his best attempts. Until he swore loudly and colorfully, in a way Steve would've never approved of. Because he saw the blue glow in the Captain's eyes. And he knew that things were headed towards hell.

Ford laughed at his shock. "You think that's a surprise? Wait until you see who's in the red corner."

* * *

It'd taken Natasha far longer than she would've liked. Possibly too long. But finally she'd managed to locate Stryker's best kept secret.

Yes, she'd taken too long.

There was no one in the building. No Stryker. No prisoners. Only the remains of what looked suspiciously lot like a mad scientist's laboratory. And a massive pile of files. Each of them had the name of a poor, unfortunate soul that'd been subjected to the place's horrors.

Natasha had a strong feeling that she didn't want to know. But she had to… Needed to…

She scrolled through the files, trying to think as little as possible. Until she faced a much too familiar name and stilled. All breath leaving her, her blood running cold.

'Barton, Clint', said a sticker on top of one of the files. There were also two dates. One for his birth, the other for his death. The latter one took place six months earlier.

* * *

Someone had to be left to man the Tower. Just in case. And with everyone going their separate ways Bruce didn't trust his self-control enough to run off.

So he stayed. And waited. Fought desperately to remain patient and to not think too much. Pepper's company helped, even if her worry rivaled his easily. Especially after she succeeded in surprising him with her chess-skills.

That seemingly endless evening they were in the middle of a yet another round when there was an intruder alert. They exchanged a look, both ready to fight, and checked surveillance footage. For a long moment what they discovered froze them with disbelief. And then they were running.

Slumped to the floor of the building's main-hall – unable to continue another step – was a badly battered, brown haired woman. With her she had two kids. A very small, hysterically crying girl had snuggled as close to her side as possible. And in her arms was a slightly older, unconscious boy whose filthy white shirt was soaked in blood.

The woman's eyes were full of tears and despair as she looked at them. "I… I know that I wasn't supposed to come here, but… I can't run anymore." She swallowed hard. "I'm Laura, Laura Barton. Please… Help my son."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Ooooh boy…! So… Clint's little family IS alive, after all (let's just hope that Cooper will be okay!). But… What about Clint? (whimpers)

WE'RE ABOUT HALFWAY THROUGH THIS ADVENTURE, FOLKS!

PLEASE, do let me hear from you! Good? Bad? Lukewarm? The vote is yours!

Awkay, I've REALLY gotta get going now. Until next time! I really hope that you'll all join in for that one.

Take care!

* * *

user: It means A LOT that you looked forward to the update so! AND, especially that it was worth the wait. (BEAMS)

The Farm's definitely gone. (sniffles) We'll see just what'll become of this whole mess…

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time?

* * *

Anonymous: So, so, SO sad, isn't it? (whimpers) We'll see if there's still hope, or… (gulps) Fingers crossed, now!

Massive thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	7. A Few Tales of Broken Families

A/N: It's time to update, folks! (BEAMS) BUT, before going that far…

THANK YOU, so so much, for all your reviews, love and support! This is a MAD ride, and it means A LOT that you've all decided to join in. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I know that you didn't come here for a mile-long author's note… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

HOLD ON TO YOUR HATS, this'll get REALLY bumpy…!

* * *

A Few Tales of Broken Families

* * *

Laura trembled to the core of her being as she sat on a comfortable couch, safe and warm for the first time in… she didn't even know how long. Lila was sleeping in her arms, clinging to her with all might, and Laura knew that she was holding the child a little too tightly in return. But she didn't dare to let go, couldn't make herself even loosen the hold because she'd already been forced into letting go of one child.

Cooper had been taken by Tony's medical staff – which had materialized seemingly out of thin air at Pepper's call – and she didn't even know…

"Ford… I have no idea how he found out about us. But… One evening he called. Said that if… If I didn't file for a divorce, he'd kill Clint and have me watch what I made him do. And then his men came to the Farm." A tear slid down Laura's cheek as the horrific memory repeated itself. "I wasn't even allowed to call him. When he tried texting me, all Ford let me do was send back 'Leave me alone'."

Bruce nodded slowly. He needed a few seconds to digest the news. "I'm sure that Clint realized that something wasn't right."

Laura shook her head, her stomach knotting. "You don't understand. Clint… He's been abandoned or left by pretty much everyone he's ever cared about. It took me years to convince him that I'd be different, and then…" She trailed off, feeling sick.

Bruce was quiet for a while. Considering. "It's… worse than that." He met her eyes with an apologetic expression. "Clint… He thinks that you and the kids died. That… That we killed you."

For a few seconds disbelief paralyzed Laura. Then a horrific wave of nausea washed through. She brought a hand to her lips, feeling dizzy. "Oh no…!" She would've wanted to use far stronger words but didn't want to in front of her child, even though Lila was asleep.

She was so preoccupied that she barely noticed how Bruce received a text. She didn't notice how pale he became, or heard the hard swallow. "Laura… There's something…" Whatever news he had didn't reach her then.

Because just then the doctor who'd been treating Cooper was approaching them, and the look on the woman's face made the bottom drop from Laura's world.

* * *

" _And in the red corner… Another member of the famous Avengers, and our reigning champion… The one and only Hawkeye!_ "

As the crowd exploded into deafening cheers Tony's heart sunk all the way to his stomach and ice-chips traveled through his veins. Right before his wide, disbelieving eyes Clint entered the ring with a frosty, murderous look on his face. The combination of rage, disbelief, frustration and grief soon transformed into what could only described as feeling sick.

Jacob Ford clearly enjoyed his far too open display of emotions. "See? Didn't I tell you that the red corner was going to be even more of a surprise."

"Steve's gonna kill him. You realize that, don't you, you sick bastard?" Tony was shaking from helpless fury. "Clint's not going to walk out of that ring alive!"

Ford's eyes held nothing but pity as they met his. There was a tiny, wry smile on the man's lips. "Just watch the show, Mr. Stark. Are you certain that you know your… friend?"

Just like so many times before Clint succeeded in surprising Tony. Because the archer didn't go down. Instead he faced Steve with the strength of an equal.

One. Two. Three punches. Two of them the Captain blocked. The third one sent him to the floor.

"What…?" Steve growled.

Clint's eyes flashed with such blind, senseless rage Tony had never seen before. "I wasn't strong enough to save my family from you. But now I'm strong enough to make you pay from what you did to them."

Tony stared. Unable to move, or do a thing to stop what was happening. And slowly yet surely understood. "How the hell did you manage to replicate the Super Soldier serum?"

"Does it matter how?" There was a sickening amount of lust and pleasure in Ford's eyes as they haunted Clint. "You should've heard how he begged for it, from the moment he knew that it was available. He really was born to be an avenger."

* * *

A nasty feeling settled into Nick Fury's stomach the second he received a text message from Natasha. Only three words. They were more than enough.

' _Stryker killed Clint._ '

He sent a team led by Maria Hill to Stryker's house immediately, hoping against all hope that it might not be too late. That for once in his life he might be wrong, or even lucky enough to be able to prevent a disaster. Time dragged on painfully slowly. Until hours later his phone began to ring.

"Did you find her?"

Maria's heavy sigh made his stomach knot, although he would've never admitted it. " _No. But… We found Stryker. And… All evidence seems to show that she got here first._ "

Fury sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in uncharacteristic defeat. It took his all to not mutter a few chosen words. "How bad is it?" It wasn't like he wanted to know, but he had to ask.

" _Ross has declared her a fugitive._ "

* * *

Clint felt dizzy and breathless from rage as his fight with Steve continued. "Why, Steve?" he snarled in a voice he didn't recognize as his own. He was punched down but bounced up quickly, with the agility of a cat. "Why did they have to die?"

Steve shrugged. For a moment it looked like the soldier's eyes glowed blue but it must've been a trick of his imagination. "Because they had the misfortune of becoming your family."

"They never harmed anyone! My wife… My kids…" Clint wasn't aware of the single tear rolling down his cheeks. He kicked before even he saw it coming, satisfied by the cracking sound and grunt he received as a response. "They… They were my family! I was supposed to keep them safe!"

"Then why didn't you?"

That, if anything, was an unforgivable hit below the beltline. Clint felt like someone had stabbed and shot him simultaneously. "You think I don't ask myself that a million times a day? You imagine that I don't regret not seeing what you guys are all about?" A series of hammer-hard attacks had Steve on the floor. Clint jumped at the opportunity without wasting a second. "I trusted you! All of you! And you were with HYDRA all along?"

They spun around each other like two beasts on a hunt. They'd sparred enough times to know one another's moves. But never like this. Never with the intention to kill.

"I still can't believe that you were stupid enough to trust a group that was put together like that." Steve looked into his eyes, as though seeking something. "But I couldn't exactly recruit them all, now could I? Banner… He would've been a fantastic addition, but we couldn't trust the Big Guy. Stark is a loose cannon. Thor… He isn't even from our world. But Natasha… She took the opportunity greedily. Told us about your little family." All of a sudden a breathtaking kick was aimed right at his stomach, and Clint was the one pinned down with the soldier looking down at him. Pity and something worse appeared. "As for you… You were useless, weak. We could've left you alone. But you just had to put your nose into HYDRA's business."

It hadn't taken Clint long to discover that Ford's little organization was actually a tiny piece of HYDRA. An underground fighting ring was a great way to discover skilled agents with loose enough morals. Ford was one of HYDRA's most valuable recruiters. And yet, Clint made the mistake of imagining that he might be able to stop the criminal somehow.

How was he supposed to know that two people from what he foolishly assumed to be his second family would turn on him?

Steve leaned closer to his ear. "I was there when Laura died, you know. The last thing she ever uttered was your name."

That was all the trigger Clint needed. His hand slid to where he'd hidden a knife, and he wasted only two seconds on toying with the thought of where to plunge it. Steve had no hope of being fast enough for him.

A single fluent motion, and it was once again Steve's turn to get floored. Clint used to be a killer, after all – technically he still was. He knew exactly how to do this. The room's dim, treacherous lights played tricks on him, making it seem like there was a flickering blue glow in Steve's eyes.

Rage flowed through Clint like lava, triggered by the memories flashing through his spinning head. He felt Laura's kiss. He brought his fists down as hard as he could, right at Steve's left cheek. He saw one of Cooper's far too rare smiles. The second punch split Steve's lip. Lila's laughter echoed in his mind, along with her voice calling out ' _Daddy!_ '. The third punch definitely broke Steve's nose, could've fractured the soldier's skull for all he knew.

There, tormented by the memories and the bitter weight of betrayal, Clint howled at the top of his voice.

* * *

After handling the HYDRA-agents Loki left him with Thor was frustrated, worried and tired. The last thing he wanted was more problems piling up. So he stiffened when he entered his motel room and found the TV open.

A reporter who looked uncomfortably lot like his Jane had a solemn look on her face. "… _Ross just confirmed that one of the Avengers is sought out for the murder of…_ "

"You asked me what I was waiting for." Loki, who was stretched on the bed as though the trickster belonged there, nodded towards the screen. "This is it."

Thor shivered. His eyes narrowed. "What have you done?"

Loki only smiled. When there was an alert from the phone Thor once received from Tony (' _You need one of these, Goldilocks, and I'm going to teach you how to use it even if it kills me_ ') the younger Asgardian nodded towards the item. "Why don't you take a look?"

Thor did, although he was fairly certain that he didn't wish to know. What he discovered was a curt message from Tony, accompanied by a link. ' _Please tell me that you've found Loki, because I'm going to make him pay for this._ '

And then Thor could only watch the live feed of the fight between Clint and Steve. It took him a little too long to see his brother's impact in Steve's eyes. To realize exactly what was going on, who was the real force behind this.

"The good Captain has a very… interesting mind." Loki's tone was impossible to read. Most would've caught amusement but it was difficult to tell for sure. "So much darkness and anger, buried behind that perfect smile and those tedious moral codes."

"Stop this madness!" Thor roared. Sounding more desperate than he would've liked. His heart was hammering and breaking as he began to realize where this might all come down to.

"Or what? You'll deliver me to father dearest for another according punishment?" Loki's eyes flashed in a rare display of genuine emotion. "No, thank you."

"Please, Loki." Thor didn't care if he was pleading. This was his brother…! "Stop this, and come home."

Loki shook his head. "It isn't my home. Nor my family."

That truly, genuinely hurt. Thor gritted his teeth. "I may be the son father received. But you are the son he chose."

For a second, just one, it looked like he got through to Loki. The eyes meeting his were those he used to know, once upon a time in a different life. Then a bitter laugh erupted through the trickster's throat, and the moment was gone. "Oh yes. And he has regretted his decision almost ever since." Ice filled those once warm and twinkling, mischievous eyes. "I will rule this pathetic realm. And then I will show Odin true remorse." Loki got up elegantly and walked so close that he could almost feel the warm breath. Their gazes locked and held. "There is only one way you can stop me. We'll see how far _you're_ willing to go for the families you received and chose."

With those haunting words Loki was gone, leaving their echo taunting Thor.

* * *

The audience watching the fight between Clint and Steve had gone wild. Most of them were also HYDRA, but none had been aware of what the Captain just revealed. Seeing two former Avengers battle it out clearly pleased the crowd to a sickening extend.

Tony felt nauseous, cold and horrified. The world Loki had plunged Steve into… The lies that'd been fed to both of the two…

"Stop this!" he roared at last. He couldn't bear watching but also didn't manage to look away as Steve gasped under the stab's vicious impact. "They… They're going to kill each! Do you seriously want that?" When the soldier twitched he finally succeeded in tearing his gaze away and glared at Ford with everything he could muster. "Do you really want Clint to die?"

"If it comes to that… Well, it'll be very unfortunate collateral damage." Ford appeared terrifyingly calm. Was there a blue glow in the man's eyes, or was it the lights…? "But why in the world should I stop this when this seems to have the exact consequences I was hoping for?"

* * *

From the sidelines a man who'd covered his face with a hood was filming the fight with his phone. Posting live stream for the entire world to see. Revealing the great Captain America's supposed real face to everyone.

Even if those two might somehow, miraculously, live the damage was already done.

What most of the audience or Clint didn't see was that Steve's hand wasn't only twitching. It was reaching out, towards the Captain's own concealed knife. The lights intensified the surreal blue glow of Steve's eyes.

Clint was blinded by rage and grief. Didn't see Steve's hand move until was too late. "Hail HYDRA", the Captain hissed, just loudly enough for the phone's camera to catch it.

Barney Barton smirked, and mused that he couldn't have scripted this Greek tragedy better.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: OH… CRAP…! (gulps) I'll just… go hide now, yeah? Because I feel like I need to, after this…

SOOOOOO… Thoughts? Comments? Rants? PLEASE, leave a line or two into the box below! I'd LOVE to hear your feelings on this absolutely mad chapter.

Awkay, because I've got ambitious typing plans… Until next time! I REALLY hope that you'll all join in for that one.

Take care!

* * *

Anonymous: Intense it is! (gulps) I'm overjoyed that you enjoyed it! We'll see just how much insanity is up ahead…

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	8. Shattered

A/N: Phew! It's getting insanely late. But before I head to bed… UPDATING TIME!

THANK YOU, so very much, for your absolutely amazing reviews, listings and support! This flight is turning towards its final chapters, so it means A LOT that you're all aboard. (HUGS)

 **As you see, the dreaded 'character death' warning has appeared to the summary. I'm sorry! (winces) We'll see just who it means…**

 **SONG RECOMMENDATION:** 'Shattered' by Trading Yesterday

Awkay, then… (takes a deep breath) Do you still dare to advance? Yes? Let's go!

* * *

Shattered

* * *

Pepper Potts was as engrossed by the footage of the fight as a great part of the country. Which was why she let her guard down. She didn't sense a threat until it was too late.

"My apologies, Miss Potts." A second ticked by before she saw Loki's face reflected on her laptop's screen. "Now hold nice and still. _This_ part isn't going to hurt."

* * *

Clint was too overwhelmed to see the knife coming before it was too late. At first he barely felt it, didn't even comprehend what'd happened. And then the white, hot pain finally began to set in.

Clint stared into Steve's eyes. Wondering, with a crushing amount of grief, just when and where things went so very wrong. He gasped, just once and incredibly painfully, feeling himself beginning to grow lightheaded.

That sound might've triggered something. Because for exactly three seconds he could've sworn that the eyes looking into his were those of the Steve he knew. Full of remorse, terror and agony. But the moment was over before he could be sure.

Then Steve's eyes hardened once more and the soldier twisted the knife, swiftly and brutally.

Clint wanted to howl under the shockwave of horrible agony. Wanted to strike back, to get away. But as it was he couldn't do a thing.

It was infuriatingly ridiculous, really. He lost himself, then his family, his whole world. He allowed horrific things to be done to himself, let people he despised with all his heart make a mess out of his body, to ensure that they hadn't died in vain. But now… Now he lay there dying, in front of a cheering crowd, one of those who killed his family claiming his life as well.

He should've felt bitter and disappointed. _Furious_. But he no longer had the energy to be angry. He didn't feel anything anymore, emotionally or physically. Which was a tremendous relief. He was just done.

Maybe now he'd get to see his wife and kids again.

* * *

The noise of the audience was overwhelming. Tony wanted to scream, at the top of his lungs, although rationally he knew that his voice would've had no hope of carrying to the ring. He couldn't even bring himself to move. And then it was too late.

In a flash there was a knife in Clint's hold, and it found a home from Steve's shoulder, only a little bit above the chest. Most people probably imagined that the archer missed his intended target. Tony knew that Clint Barton practically never missed.

Despite everything that'd happened, despite having been brainwashed, mind controlled and fed with who knows what lies for over six months, Clint just couldn't bring himself to actually…

But apparently that wasn't quite wrenching enough. Because then Tony was forced to watch Steve make his own move. The blade was long and slender, definitely did a horrible amount of damage as it was plunged into the archer's stomach hard enough to practically impale the man. Clint's eyes widened for a fraction of a second and the man's lips opened, but if there was a sound it didn't carry to Tony's ears. Steve's hand moved, twisting the blade. Clint shuddered but didn't scream.

For a few fleeting second the bleeding fighters looked at each other. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking, what they were truly seeing. Then Clint's eyes fluttered closed and the archer faded away with a chillingly peaceful look on his face.

Steve stayed there for a few more moments, appearing deaf to the audience's roars. Then turned and walked away stiffly, oblivious to the fact that he'd been beaten and wounded to a point where he could barely stand. Clint remained still and a lifeless, a pool of red growing underneath him.

At that moment it finally really, truly struck Tony what he was watching. What the real purpose of this sickening spectacle was. This was the Avengers coming undone.

Tony moved instinctively, desperate to help Clint. He never got the chance to take more than a single step before Jacob Ford spoke out. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you." The criminal's eyes were emotionless. "He's still breathing. Go anywhere near him… and I'll make sure that he won't be for long."

"He's dying!" Tony snarled, mercifully unaware of the tears filling his eyes.

"And I can help him, if he chooses to keep fighting." Ford lifted his chin, and those eyes weren't quite so emotionless anymore. "Stay away from him… and I'll exhaust all my efforts to ensure that he lives through this. Take another step towards him and he's dead. I'm not letting you take away what's mine."

"He's not someone's property", Tony growled in a voice that would've startled most people, his heart hammering and breaking. To imagine how long Clint had already been in this man's clutches… To imagine it continuing, while the archer was horribly injured and thought that he was all alone in the world…

Ford sneered. "That collar around his neck speaks a different tale." The taller man took a step closer, invading his space. "Now leave, while there's still a chance that my people may be able to save him."

Tony didn't want to leave Clint behind. Especially not like this. But he saw that Ford wasn't bluffing and knew that there was absolutely no other way. At least for now. So he turned and began to walk away although it was the last thing he wanted to do, his heart even heavier than his feet. He ignored the couple of tears which slid down his cheeks.

He'd come back here. He'd tear this place down, piece by piece. But before he could do that there was something he needed to do. Because while Ford told him not to approach Clint the man said nothing about Steve, and before heading after the soldier he needed a little backup…

* * *

The small room was full of shadows as Laura sat there with her face buried into her hands. Barely able to keep herself together. Barely understanding what was going on.

They said that it was a miracle her son had made it this far – and that far more likely than not she'd have to say goodbye to him before the dawn would break. They had all Stark's resources at their disposal. But there was only so much the medical team could do.

Cooper. Her little boy. Her son, who'd never done anything bad in his entire life. Whose only dream was that when he grew older, he'd get to save lives, just like his daddy.

The injustice of it all was suffocating her.

In the end Laura couldn't take it anymore. She took her phone to her unsteady hands and dialed numbers. Clint hadn't used that line in ages but it was active, the answering machine was still on. It didn't matter that she wasn't supposed to ever use that number, that it was too dangerous. Her husband was missing and she was losing her son. How much worse could things get?

Laura closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep herself from whimpering when his soothingly familiar voice floated to her ear. A few tears trickled down her cheeks. " _This is Clint Barton. I'm busy causing trouble right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can._ "

At the beep Laura broke into a brief, heart shattering mew of sheer agony. "Clint, Coop… He's hurt, real bad and… We need you. So, please… Please, just… Come home. Clint, please…! I… I'm still alive, we all are. So, please…! I lo…"

Laura ran out of time to talk, and no matter how much she tried to stop herself she couldn't help wondering if those were the last words she'd get to speak to her husband.

* * *

Clint honestly didn't expect to wake up again. But apparently the serum was far more effective than anyone would've dared to imagine. His body was still stubborn, even though his mind had already given up.

He opened his eyes, far too medicated to be able to think clearly, to meet Ford's face. It didn't take a genius to see that the criminal wasn't happy with him. "You made sure that he had a knife, didn't you, you little shit? I couldn't understand it at first, but then I had a little… talk with Stannis. You were aiming for the two of you killing each other."

Clint nodded. What use was there in denying the truth, especially when he didn't care about the consequences? "With the whole world… seeing his true face." He'd known that there was a… friend of Ford's filming the whole thing. He was supposed to reveal Steve's true colors and kill the soldier. He decided that he was done being a puppet. Apparently the choice was out of his hands.

Or not. Because the look on Ford's face was murderous. "You want to die that badly?" The criminal looked into his eyes and nodded slowly. "Right, right… I can give you that."

* * *

There weren't many people left Tony could trust anymore. At first he sent a message to Bruce, informing the scientist of the new development. Then he contacted Rhodey and even Natasha, although he hadn't heard from her in months. Wherever she was, she might've seen the footage. And he was certain that whatever she was up to, she'd want to help Steve.

At the time he was entering the apartment where he and Pepper spent a huge part of their spare time. He had his phone on his ear and his lips open to let Pepper know what was going on. Until all froze at the sound of Natasha's phone ringing.

"Natasha?" He frowned and entered fully, cold swelling inside his stomach. "When did you…?"

"Don't come here." Natasha's voice was tight, strained. "She… She called me, said that there's been an emergency. When I got here her eyes… They were blue. Loki must've made it here first, or ordered her to call."

Tony felt breathless and sick. Because slowly yet surely understanding was beginning to dawn. Against Natasha's earlier order he stepped forward, unsteady on his feet. "What did he do to her?"

"As soon as I walked in she was attacking me. Tried to kill me." Natasha sounded… pained, almost. "I had no choice…"

If she went on Tony never heard her. Because just then he found the women. And whatever had been left intact of his heart by the day's earlier events fell to pieces.

Natasha was kneeling on the floor. And right in front of the redhead lay Pepper. Eyes closed and still, not breathing.

"She would've killed me." Which one of them was Natasha trying to convince? "We fought and… She fell. Hit her head."

Tony felt like he'd been stuck inside some horrific nightmare. He walked closer, until he slumped down to his knees beside Pepper. His chest was so tight that he could barely breathe and his hand was incredibly steady as it stroked first her face, then her head. Desperately willing her to come back.

"Tony, I'm…"

"Don't", Tony hissed in a voice which shook from barely controlled fury and inconsolable grief. His eyes narrowed as they met the gash on the back of Pepper's head. "Get out. Right now. Stay out of my sight or I'll kill you."

Natasha didn't say that she was sorry because it would've done no good. Her barely audible steps advanced further until a soft click of the door announced her departure. Tony barely paid attention. The grief threatened to consume him in whole.

There was so much he would've wanted to say to Pepper. So much they were supposed to get to experience together. Tony's hand trembled even more heavily than it did before as he laid it against the slight swell of her stomach. No life could be felt there.

Tony allowed himself to break down to tears.

* * *

Natasha was teetering on the edge of losing control. Perhaps her sanity. Her head was spinning and the people she passed by clearly imagined that she was drunk. She didn't care, didn't even notice.

The sight of eyes that had Loki induced blue mixed together – Clint's, Pepper's… The sound their heads made at the cognitive recalibration… Almost identical. The only, vital difference was that Clint woke up to keep fighting, Pepper didn't.

Natasha didn't register what she was doing until Bruce's voice carried from her phone. " _Nat? Where are you? What…?_ "

"I've done something horrible." Her voice was full of calm she didn't feel, laced by steel. It was a heavy contrast to how she was trembling to her core. "But I…" Her voice faltered, and she hated it. "I need you to believe that I didn't… That it was an accident. That I'm sorry." She could count with the fingers of one hand how many times she'd admitted out loud to being sorry. But this… This was definitely such a time. Her heart hammered as though about to burst, and if she'd been anyone else she would've feared that she was on her way towards a panic attack.

" _Nat._ " Bruce's voice was exhausted, held longing and worry. He sounded to be struggling for control as badly as she was. " _Whatever it is… Just… Just come back. Come home._ "

Oh, how badly Natasha would've wanted to do just that. To erase these past six months and go back to how things were. Her lips opened even though she had no idea what to say. But all words faded when she opened the door of her tiny, miserable motel room and switched on the lights.

" _Nat, what's wrong?_ "

Natasha hadn't heard her own strangled gasp. There, unwitnessed by anyone, her face morphed into an expression of absolute misery. Disbelief rolled through her along with cold, horror, fury and sheer pain.

Clint had been laid to her bed. The serene expression on his face was a stark contrast against all the bruises and visible fractures; his cheek had caved in and his nose didn't seem right. He'd been dressed to his mission gear. Somehow the sight was incredibly right, since she'd seen him like this a thousand times. She would've been tricked into believing that he was simply sleeping if she hadn't seen clearly that he wasn't breathing. And then there was a note from Ford, fastened to the archer's chest with a large nail.

' _He's all yours, I had no use for a broken toy._ '

" _Natasha?_ "

* * *

That pitch-black night Barney Barton took a stand at the center of the city, where hundreds of people and two TV-cameras had arrived as witnesses. His eyes blazed as he looked at the crowd gathered around him, took in the tense, terrified and incredibly angry faces. Light shone of the bow and arrows he had along. "Today we saw how strong HYDRA has become! How deep the roots go! America's most celebrated hero is a member of the enemy!" He gritted his teeth. "Who is going to protect us against that threat? The government? Those people still haven't lifted a finger, haven't done a thing to bring an end to this madness!"

There was loud, approving murmur.

"And the Avengers? There's only six of them, and one of them just killed another – my baby brother!" He gasped once, twice, noticing with glee that his performance was receiving the desired response. He refused to blink for long enough to make his eyes grow watery. Playing the grieving brother came easily.

"Are we supposed to rely on the S.H.I.E.L.D? It's nothing more than a pathetic joke, a mockery of what it was supposed to be!" With that he played audio of how several people once decided that destroying New York was worth it if it'd stop Loki. "They were supposed to protect us, and they were willing to sacrifice us without a second thought! They would've let us all die!"

The crowd cheered its support, new fear enforcing the rage.

"So who do we trust, to keep us safe?" Barney shook his head. "No one! Because there are no heroes left! No magic-organization to help us! If we want to keep ourselves and our children safe… It's entirely up to us!" His eyes flashed. "We've been waiting for long enough! We've watched Loki, the Avengers and alike cause too far too much damage all over the world! But not anymore!" By the end of his proclamation he was practically roaring. "Tonight we will rise to protect ourselves and everything we hold dear! Tonight we take control!" He raised his fist into the air. "It took losing my brother before I opened my eyes, but now I see! And I'm determined to ensure that such unnecessary, bitter losses will stop! Who's with me?"

The crowd's answering cry was deafening as it echoed through the night.

From the sidelines, well out of everyone's sight, Jacob Ford and Loki observed the scene. Ford's jawline tightened, all the day's tension setting in full force. "Why the hell are you letting arrogant idiot trot there like a peacock?"

"He serves a purpose." Loki appeared and sounded calm, but there was poison in the trickster's eyes. "The last time I came here I… miscalculated. I've learned my lesson since." A wicked smirk appeared. "Do you know what's a far more effective power to control people with than fear? Chaos."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh dear gosh…! Chaos indeed… SO, the whole team's in shambles. How much heartbreak is there to come – or is this the start of something better…? CAN things even get better after all this?

Poor Pepper! (winces) Remember that sound Clint's head made as it hit the railing in 'Avengers'? Natasha's cognitive recalibration brought him back, but it could've VERY EASILY killed him.

Rants? Comments? PLEASE, do drop a line or two to the box down below!

 **In the next one** we skip sixteen months ahead in time, as this hurricane begins to draw to a dramatic close…

Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	9. Bring in the Chaos and Thunder

A/N: Guess what? It's time to update! And high time, too, with the cliffie I left you on… (winces apologetically)

First, though…! A MILLION thank yous for your AMAZING reviews! It means A LOT that you're all sticking around this story. (HUGS)

Awkay, because you're probably more than ready to read more… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

* * *

Bring in the Chaos and Thunder

* * *

 _Sixteen Months Later_

* * *

It isn't very difficult to push the world into a chaos, really. Sometimes all it takes is a single event, one person charismatic enough to appeal to a great number of people. Someone who manages to divide opinions violently enough.

It took footage of Captain America killing a teammate, right after admitting to killing the other man's family. And Barney Barton's grief-filled statements afterwards.

There were a lot of people who still had faith in Steve Rogers. Who refused to believe in what they saw. But there were even more of those who were appalled, who felt like they'd been betrayed and played for fools. At first the resulting arguments were quite harmless, little more than bar brawls. But the tensions grew along with suspicions, on both sides.

So far the government's best efforts had failed to bring Steve before justice. Some people grew frustrated and demanded heavier actions. There were those who took justice into their own hands when the official routes weren't fast enough. There were also those who accused the government of the whole thing; some claimed that the entire government had been taken over by HYDRA, others simply lost faith.

It didn't take long before other age-old grudges, disappointments, frustrations and aches muddled with this newest shock. People were angry and scared, they demanded results. Protests and outright riots became nearly daily events. The only thing stopping a full revolution was that neither side was organized enough to arrange one. As nearly always happens when pure terror and fury take over, the hurricane never actually led to anything lasting. The angry mobs were like rabid dogs biting anything that moves.

In that borderline civil war, the likes of Jacob Ford blossomed. He and his various contacts fed the chaos, ensured that the rage was never forgotten. For every protest for peace there was a destructive explosion, more than once orchestrated by a team led by Captain America himself. For every desperate negotiation to stop the bitter, vicious cycle there was either an attack against the government, or new evidence of how little the government and S.H.I.E.L.D actually cared. Ford created enough distraction to ensure that in his lead HYDRA – the core of the whole madness – continued to grow, became stronger than ever. Right there, first under the streets and eventually almost fully openly, yet unseen by those who could've done something to stop the progress.

Loki observed all this from the sidelines, unseen, unknown. He allowed Barney Barton and Jacob Ford to capture the attention of people as he waited for the disaster to reach the correct spot. Waited patiently.

Patience, was one of those great many traits which he and Thor didn't share.

Loki would take control, once the time was right. This pathetic realm was his, after all. But for now he'd enjoy the show, just like he did at the Helicarrier. The previous time he made the mistake of attempting to destroy the Avengers. This time he'd let the Avengers do the destroying for him. For Loki actually learned from his mistakes.

After having convinced Thor that he was dead twice, after witnessing just how hard the god of thunder still fought to 'bring him back to his senses', Loki wondered if his so-called brother's inability to learn was a second trait they didn't share.

Loki didn't want to be sane. He didn't want to go back _home_ , which was only a pathetic place where even the man who was supposed to be his father hated him. No, that was no home, that was not his family – he'd never had either. Chaos was Loki's only home. Why not embrace it?

* * *

Natasha lost the first place she called a home violently. After that Red Room was her home for a very long time. Too long. Until Clint Barton marched into her life and showed her what a home was supposed to be.

She owed him, for that and so much more. Debt that couldn't possibly be repaid in one lifetime. And then, all of a sudden, he was gone.

After seeing him there on her hotel bed, as though asleep although she knew that he wouldn't be waking up, Natasha didn't call anyone. She didn't approach him, couldn't bring herself to touch him. It would've made the whole thing far too real. It would've shattered her, and she couldn't afford to break down.

So she turned and walked away, her heart a dead weight in her chest, and disappeared from the world.

That night she dyed her hair jet-black, packed up all the weaponry she could get her hands on and began on a dark, lonely path. She'd failed Clint, spectacularly. But she could still make HYDRA pay for what they've done – and made her do. The blood of both Clint and Pepper soiled her hands, one's more literally than the other's.

Natasha had no idea how many HYDRA-agents she killed. It wasn't enough. While the world around her slipped further and further into a chaos her mind remained horrifyingly focused and chillingly lucid.

She was Black Widow, no longer Natasha, because it was the only way to stay sane, or just insane enough.

The sun was setting when a bullet flew. It found a home. She watched how the HYDRA-agent slumped down and wished that she would've been able to feel satisfaction. Instead she kicked him further, as violently as her disgustingly revealing little black dress allowed, and slipped a small handgun to the holster fastened high on her thigh.

Pity that he noticed it so soon. She would've wanted him to a more… compromising position before revealing her true colors. Perhaps he would've been able to give her some answers. Well, there was little she could do about it now.

To her shame Natasha didn't hear the second man entering and approaching. Perhaps he was in the hotel room all along. The hair in the back of her neck stood up reflexively when she heard the voice. "I have been looking for you for a long time. I was summoned to get you."

Natasha prepared herself for a fight. "To get me where?" she demanded sharply while peering over her shoulder. She got the chance to catch a glimpse of the Winter Soldier's face. Then something struck her, and all she knew was darkness.

* * *

There was a time – a surprisingly long, beautiful time – when Laura Barton was truly, genuinely happy. She had a husband who adored her, a home and eventually beautiful children. Everything she ever dreamt of, even if Clint's missions threatened to drive her out of her mind more than once.

But these days, thinking about the past and then the ruins that'd become of her happiness… Laura mused with a great deal of bitterness that she was beginning to understand the pity on her mother's face when she yelled at the woman that she'd never regret Clint. Of course Laura still didn't regret. How could she have, with their children and all those fond memories? But she was forced to admit that this all hurt worse than death. That there were still far too many days when it was only the kids which kept her from losing her mind from the sheer agony. She had to stay strong for them, had to pick herself up every single day and carry on. She still made that decision consciously every morning, when she opened her eyes with a sigh to face a new day. Torn from dreams of Clint's familiar arms around her.

Laura had no idea where she would've taken her remaining family if Tony hadn't allowed her to stay at the Tower. She didn't know if it was out of good will, pity or loyalty towards Clint. Tony gave her a good hint one night, when the man was too drunk to hold it in anymore.

/ _"I couldn't protect my own family, but…" There were tears in the billionaire's pained eyes. "But… Maybe I can protect Feather Head's. At least I wanna try."_ /

At first they didn't know how to be around each other. The wounds, the memories, were still too fresh and bitter. But the loss and grief tied them together, and as they stood at the top of the Tower screaming their lungs out they were the only ones who could've understood. It was some bittersweet comfort, at least.

But they were also painful reminders for each other. Her family, her ties to Clint – and a man who fought beside her husband, who was a member of something of a second family. The Tower was a prison to them both yet they had no idea how to leave.

Fate decided to play a yet another hand for them.

Laura had just gotten the kids to sleep. Or well, Cooper was in his bed when she peered into the room, feigning sleep although his trembling gave him away. Lila slept soundly for fifteen minutes until Laura was summoned back by hysterical screaming. Hugging her daughter close, trying with all her might to offer comfort, Laura asked in a whisper what was wrong. In her arms, clinging to her desperately, the child wailed only a single word. / _"Daddy…!"_ /

It took forty-five minutes to get Lila to sleep again. Laura waited for another twenty before leaving her room. She almost bumped into Bruce and frowned at the dangerously clearly visible emotions on the scientist's face. "Bruce? What's wrong?"

Bruce swallowed. "Take the kids. I have to get you out of the Tower, right now."

Laura shivered and balled her fists. All her maternal instincts kicking in full force as adrenaline spiked up. "What…?" She never got the chance to finish.

The was a terrifying, hissing sound the direction of which she couldn't pinpoint. Then a sudden and sharp bang. And all the Tower's electricity went down.

* * *

Natasha woke up with a horribly aching head and dizzy. She listened for a moment, tried to get some sort of an idea of her surroundings. A sterile reek assaulted her nose.

Was she in some kind of a laboratory?

Her eyes opened halfway. The first thing she managed to make sense of was a plexiglass. And then she distinguished two blurry figures stood on the other side. It took too long before she recognized Loki and the Winter Soldier. Violent cold shivers went through her and it took her all not to let the fear show. Her eyes narrowed.

Loki smiled at her. "Funny, how the tables turn, isn't it?" He ran a hand down the plexiglass. "The previous time it was me on that side. I'll admit that this side is far more appealing." The trickster looked towards the Winter Soldier. "Be a good boy and join the others at the Tower. I have no further use for you."

The killer nodded and walked away almost soundlessly, not looking back. The room's little light shone on his metal arm. It was stained by blood.

Natasha took a deep breath. She could only hope that he didn't see how she was trembling from rage and something far more embarrassing. "What have you done to me?" she hissed.

"Nothing yet." Honest, for once. Loki's eyes were those of a lurking serpent, though. "When we last met you played me for a fool. I'll ensure that you'll come to regret it."

Truly pissed off, Natasha pushed herself up faster than would've probably been advisable. She stepped as close to the glass as she could and glared at him. "Lay a single finger on me…", she growled. "… and I'll tear it off."

Loki's nose wrinkled. "What do you make of me? I have no desire to touch you." The trickster's sinister smile was that of a monster which had seen too much – she'd know. "You lied to me, that day… But not about everything. You've allowed your heart to become compromised, Natalia. It will be your downfall, and I will enjoy every second of watching it."

Natasha wanted to punch him. Wanted to grab a knife and use it on him. Wanted to scream at him in every single language she knew exactly what she thought he was.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of a violent reaction, however, Natasha merely glared at him. Memorized the exact look on his face at that very moment. And swore to herself that she'd make him pay dearly for it.

They were so worked up by their little exchange that they shivered when the sounds of thunder met their ears. A lighting after another clapped on the sky. A storm which had appeared out of nowhere. As though from some other world. Or realm.

This time the sinister smile was on Natasha's face. "What's the matter?" she purred. "Scared of a little lightening?"

Loki looked through the window and towards the sky, his eyes darkening. "I'm not overly fond of what follows…"

* * *

Steve's unnaturally blue eyes were hard and emotionless as he walked through a long hallway, one perfectly steady hand reaching out towards his ear comm. Shadows danced on his HYDRA uniform. "Team Alpha, are you in position?"

" _Roger that._ "

"Team Beta?"

" _Right here, fearless leader._ "

Steve's face hardened. Only the shadows around him witnessing pale traces of the good man he was, once upon a time, trying to regain control. "Are you certain that you and your sister are ready for this? This is your first mission…"

" _We're not some scared, helpless children_ ", the young man snapped. " _So relax. Stark or his men will never see us coming._ "

Steve decided to accept that. He didn't have time for this infuriating bickering. "What about you, Haw…?" His question was interrupted violently by an arrow. It flew right past him, nearly hitting his neck on its way.

"Right behind you." Heavy, booted steps approached him. A hand that was protected by a black glove took the arrow from where it'd hit the wall. "Pretty sloppy, _Captain_. Shouldn't a backstabber like you know better than to let your guard down like that?"

Steve glared at the arrival. The burning in his veins, in his heart… They were caused by more than just anger. And he _hated_ it, because he wasn't supposed to feel such things. "Were you hoping to kill me while Ford isn't watching?"

"If I wanted you dead you'd be dead." In the dark Clint Barton's eyes met his. Full of ice and bitter heartbreak. "You were supposed to kill me, back there in the ring. That was our deal." The archer's eyes narrowed at him. "For now you're still useful to me. You can help me slaughter those who took away my family. But when they've been handled… I'll come for you. I'll tear you to pieces with my bare hands if I have to." The man turned and began to walk away. "I have no idea why you wouldn't finish me off. But know that every minute I'm alive could be your last. How long will you force me to stick around?" With those menacing words the Hawk disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: SURPRISE! Well, there were several surprises, really… NOW, this story has come to the spot I've been seeing with my mind's eye from the start. A hurricane is blowing, and it'll hit HARD. Who will live through it and who won't?

Thoughts? Comments on this insanity? PLEASE, do drop a line or two! I'd LOVE to hear from you guys. (grins)

Until next time, folks! I really hope that you'll all stay tuned for that one.

Take care!


	10. The Crimson Smile of Revenge

A/N: Phew! It's a bit late right now… BUT, at least I got this chapter out today! YAY?

Before getting to the business, though… THANK YOU, so much, for your reviews and love for this story! It's been a long ride, with some unnecessary updating gaps, and it means the world to me that you're all aboard with me. (HUGS)

Awkay, before I get all sappy… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

The Crimson Smile of Revenge

* * *

The Tower was still entirely dark when Jacob Ford walked in through the main doors. He paid barely any attention to the dead or unconscious members of security personnel. There was no active threat to his safety anymore, and should anything unexpected occur several of his people were pretty much everywhere.

"Any sign of Stark?" he demanded as soon as he encountered Steve.

The Captain shook his head. "Either he's hiding, or he isn't here. Stark doesn't usually hide."

Ford shrugged. "Never mind him. We have the Tower. If you catch a trace of him, kill him." With that he headed further into the building.

In the end he reached a very dark, laboratory like environment in the lower levels of the building. He frowned, his eyes darting around. "Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

As a response an arrow flew past him, missing him by so little that it made his heart skip a beat.

"Considering the fact that you're armed, you seemed to guess that my invitation wasn't to a friendly meeting." It was impossible to tell where, exactly, Clint's voice came from. "Go on, there's a gift attached to the arrow. Take a look."

Understandably wary yet knowing that he didn't exactly have a choice, Ford did as he'd been told. He frowned upon discovering a flash drive. It had some sort of a hawk-symbol attached to its side.

"One of those laptops should still have battery left", Clint ushered sharply, in a voice that certainly wasn't a request.

Indeed, one of the room's three laptops still had some life left in it. Ford inserted the flash drive, his eyes darting around constantly in a futile attempt to catch a glimpse of his companion. As soon as he could he opened the tiny device's only file, a video recording. In ten seconds Ford realized that he was a dead man walking.

Because on the video – which was a security camera's footage – he approached a firmly chained Laura Barton. " _You're going to disappear, little bird…_ ", he hissed at her. " _You made him imagine that he might have a life away from me, free of me… I'm going to ensure that you'll regret it for the rest of your life._ "

Ford wasn't alone as he approached the woman. Dragged along by one arm was a visibly horrified Cooper, who seemed to be using all his willpower to try and appear calm. " _Leave my son alone!_ " Laura snarled. But it was too late.

The gunshot and the ensuing screams echoed deafeningly in the room.

Ford swallowed. His hand reached out towards his concealed firearm. "Who gave that to you?"

"Does it matter?" Clint's voice was the deep, throaty growl of a soon attacking wild animal. There was a long pause, during which booted steps echoed everywhere. "For a long time now I've been wondering why I'm still alive, while they aren't. Why I was forced to stay. Now I know. Thank you, for giving me a purpose."

Ford had exactly two seconds to catch a reflection of Clint's face on the laptop's screen, and then it was too late.

* * *

Loki sat on a rooftop with his face turned towards the sky, not caring about the rain falling down on him. He didn't feel the cold. Didn't feel much of anything, really. Even when a yet another bout of thunder clapped threateningly close.

This was only a matter of time, really.

Loki spoke when he sensed that he was no longer alone. "Have you come to a decision, then, brother?" he inquired. Curious rather than anything else. "Are you ready to do what it takes to stop me this time?"

The answering voice wasn't the one he'd expected. "I doubt Thor would ever be able to make himself kill you. That's why I decided to come to you first." Behind him stood Tony in full Iron Man armor. "You tested me the previous time, remember? I have a machine for a heart. I'm the only one who can end you."

Loki scoffed. He stood up slowly and gracefully. "Do you really imagine me to believe that you'd simply kill me in cold blood?"

Tony's face wasn't visible from the armor. But he felt the cold. "Don't imagine that you know what I'm capable of anymore. I stopped being a hero the second you had Pepper killed."

* * *

Lila was absolutely terrified in her mommy's arms while uncle Bruce led them from one room to another. Constantly giving them signs to be quiet. She could hear bad men moving about everywhere, and fought to keep herself from bursting into tears of fear.

What was going on?

And there, in the middle of all the panic and chaos… She heard a familiar voice. One which made her moist eyes widen. "Daddy…?" she breathed out.

Was he really somewhere in the building? Had he come to help them? Reason faded away from her head. All Lila knew was that she needed to get to him, as quickly as possible.

Her mommy had no hope of stopping her before she'd already broken free from her arms. "Lila…!" The child barely registered the horrified gasp.

* * *

Clint didn't know what role the Avengers played in his family's death anymore. At the moment he pushed the thought of them to a far corner of his mind. Using all the skills he'd learned as an acrobat he took Ford to the floor, one of his knees almost crushing the criminal's windpipe in the process. Of, how great the temptation was… But it would've been far too quick and painless.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been dreaming of killing you?" Clint hissed, leaning closer. "What you did to me, when I was still only a kid… I wanted to make you pay for it. And when Fury offered me a mission to get close to you… I barely believed my luck." His eyes flashed while pain pierced his heart like an arrow. "I'm not going to ask who told you about my family… Because I don't believe a word that comes out of your mouth. Actually… I'd very much advice you to not say a word." He pulled out a knife. "All I want is you to scream."

He plunged the knife into Ford's stomach and pulled, with all his might. At first the criminal gasped, but soon the man's self-control broke, resulting to a howl of agony that seemed to echo through the entire building. A twisted sense of satisfaction went through Clint, and he wondered vaguely just what was becoming of him.

Ford gasped, dazed and in a shock. "My… My men… will kill… you… for this…"

Clint gritted his teeth, squeezing the knife's haft. "Do you really imagine that I care?" He hadn't cared about his own life in a while, now.

Ford met his eyes with a sickening smirk, which revealed that the man's teeth were covered in blood. "You… don't know… everything…"

Clint pulled at the haft again, coaxing a new scream. His eyes narrowed. "I told you… to not say anything."

Ford's breathing was ragged and labored. It was only a matter of moments… "Backup's… coming… to help… me…"

"Let them", Clint challenged in a hiss.

They glared at each other. A million unpleasant memories flooded into Clint's head as he witnessed Ford's breathing slowing, then stopping entirely. Something in him shifted when those eyes glazed over.

Was he waking up from a nightmare, or falling right into a new one?

Clint was still glaring intently at his tormentor, as though fearing that the man might still somehow wake up, when he heard steps. He stiffened and turned his gaze, prepared for anything. Well, anything but what he encountered. His heart fluttered painfully and his eyes nearly overflowed.

Instead of a threat he saw Lila. She stood at the room's doorway with wide, terrified eyes. Alive and real. It could've been a body double, of course. But Clint knew his own child. "Daddy…?" she whispered in a choked, desperate voice. Then her gaze shifted to see something behind him, and confusion filled her eyes. "Uncle Steve?"

Clint tensed up. Cursing himself. How did Steve manage to sneak up on him?

There was the unmistakable sound of a gun being prepared. Then Steve's voice. "Don't do anything stupider than you have so far", the Captain advised him.

Clint barely heard. Because the soldier wasn't the only arrival. A man he'd come to know as the Winter Soldier appeared as though out of thin air, far too close to Lila. The man looked towards Ford's dead body. Then focused on the little girl. The look in the man's eyes revealed what orders Ford had given him.

/ _"If anything happens to me… make him suffer."_ /

Lava coursed through Clint, nearly stealing his breath. "Lila, sweetie… Close your eyes", he advised softly. "Right now."

Lila didn't ask why. Didn't question him. Didn't even hesitate.

Clint didn't care how many bullets Steve was going to shoot at him. He'd fight to save his child until his final breath. His hand was already reaching out towards his gun as he sped to motion.

* * *

None of them noticed that they had audience. From a platform above Pietro Maximoff stared in disbelief while three gunshot echoed. And saw the real face of HYDRA for the first time.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: DAAAAANG! (winces) You know… That final scene was the one I had on my mind from the moment I started writing this story. We'll see if this whole mess can have anything even close to a happy ending…!

Soooo… Any good? At all? We're approaching the final stages of this story so I'd LOVE to hear from you!

Awkay, because I really have to go and get some beauty sleep… Until next time! I really hope that you'll all join in for that one.

Take care!

* * *

casualtythefacts: Quite heart wrenching, isn't it? But it seems that he doesn't exactly have a choice over the matter… (winces) We'll see how this mad tale ends…

Monumental thank yous for the review! Until next time.


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